Out of the Sky
by Shaitanah
Summary: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he’s heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? Itachi and Sasuke; gen
1. An Awfully Big Adventure

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? Itachi and Sasuke; no yaoi Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Lyrics from _The Terms In Which I Think Is Reality_ by Allen Ginsberg.

**Dedication**: to Helike because she's the biggest Itachi fan I know and my dear friend, too. And the only way she tolerates Sasuke is if Itachi's there to knock some sense into him. XD

**A/N**: I do realize that Sasuke is somewhat OOC here. But believe me, guys, it's intentional! And rather important plotwise.

* * *

**OUT OF THE SKY**

_The heart has no tears to give, it drops only blood, blee__ding itself away in silence. _

Harriet Beecher Stowe. _'Uncle Tom's Cabin'_

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_**An Awfully Big Adventure**_

_Reality is a question_

_of realizing how real_

_the world is already._

There was one more fit of coughing, and silence fell. I pricked up my ears. I listened, trying to catch the rhythm of his breathing, some kind of rustling… anything! But he was quiet, and I couldn't help thinking: what if he was–?

He had been my only company for so long. I knew neither his name, nor what he looked like. The only thing that identified him was a voice: gentle, vaguely familiar, strained because of never-ending thirst. I knew the feeling. My lips were chapped, my throat was sore and the sound of my own voice frightened me.

But the silence in the next cell frightened me even more.

I tried to think of something nice to say. I'm not good at that. I'm not good at talking at all, for that matter.

I perched on the small ledge on the wall that separated us and craned out my neck so I could reach the small barred window just below the ceiling. I could see part of the cell, identical to my own, just as dark and filthy, but I couldn't see the prisoner. He must have been sitting in the left corner which was concealed from me. In a way I was grateful for not knowing what he looked like. It's always easier to let go when the person is faceless.

"Hey," I whispered, trying to keep disbelief out of my voice. "It's gonna be all right. I'll get us both out of here."

I didn't know why I was so concerned over someone I didn't even know. I don't deserve the priviledge of caring for anyone.

I recalled my first day in this prison. The memory flashed before my eyes; I trembled at how intense it was, and wondered if he ever remembered his first day.

…I woke up on the cold floor and blinked my eyes several times instinctively to make sure they were intact. Blunt ache drilled the back of my head; my eyes stung; sweat dripped over my body, and the clothes clung heavily to the skin. I tried to move and barely managed to sit up. Dizzyness struck, but I overcame it and looked around.

The room which I found myself in was small, walls faced in cracked stone slabs oozing with grime. There were no windows save for a small barred opening above me. A few cast-iron pillars, painted muddy-red as far as I could discern in the dense darkness, supported the ceiling.

Prison cell, I thought with vague amusement. Lovely. I had gone through hell only to end up locked up in some godforsaken prison! It was so pathetically ironic that I even released a soft chuckle.

Other thoughts came to my mind. Did I kill him? Was he dead? I barely remembered what had happened. Everything got mixed in a terrible blur of hands reaching for my eyes, the overwhelming power of electricity pulsing in my hands, astounding revelations and the final dizzying fall.

He had lain immobile at my feet. I had gazed upon him and seen no life in his dull eyes. The Sharingan had faded from them. Could he be dead?

The door crashed open, snapping me out of my tormenting thoughts. Two tall bulky men entered. I sprang up on my feet, taking up the battle stance. Whoever they were, they looked rather unfriendly. I reached for the Kusanagi and realized with a heavy heart that I had lost my sheath.

They moved. Sparse light that hit from behind them as they moved away from the door almost blinded me. I staggered. I spun around to hit one of the men with a taijutsu grip – and I missed.

I missed.

A firm fist connected with my solar plexus. Darkness and light mingled in front of my eyes and went up in flames as pain pierced my body. I fell on my knees, struggling to breathe. The man gripped me by the forearm and dragged me out of the room. The other one shut the door and followed him in dismal silence.

I was so tired I couldn't even resist. They brought me to another room with dirty white peeling walls, strapped me to a table and injected something in my veins. The silence around me got thicker. I thought I was deaf.

I lay there for a while, trying to figure out if I had died and gone to hell.

They threw me back in the cell what seemed to be a few hours later. I closed my eyes and fell into a restive sleep which was interrupted quite soon by some other man who brought food. It was a spit of white slush (presumably rice, though I had a strong suspicion it had already been put to use twice or more) on a thin seaweed bedding. It smelt weird, but I was so exhausted that my stomach clenched at the sight of it and I fell upon it avidly. After I was done, exhaustion overrode anger and humiliation, and I fell asleep again, this time for a longer and more restful period.

The next day I felt better and undertook to examine the cell more thoroughly. I peered through the barred window into the neighbouring cell and judged it to be empty.

The men returned. This time I was hell-bent on getting my way out of this situation. I knocked the larger one out, but the smaller one turned to be a qualified taijutsu fighter. His style reminded me somewhat of Lee. I was able to foresee some of his moves; however, I was still weak, and whatever they had injected me with the day before had blocked my ninjutsu. He bound my hands behind my back, spurned his partner nonchalantly to wake him up, and together they dragged me once again to the white room. I kicked and screamed, tried to use my legs and teeth as a weapon, spat off the foulest curses. They paid no attention. I demanded they tell me who they were and to what purpose they kept me here. They ignored me.

A cool hand lay upon my forehead. I could feel a medical jutsu paralyzing me; not only my body, but my will as well. I tried to wriggle out of the straps, but they only bruised me harder. Needles broke into my veins, drawing blood and injecting something. And once again, I found myself slowly dying beneath the chilly light of hospital lamps.

Such was the first week, the same routine day after day: tests, meagre feeding and sleep, and feverish plans to escape in between. I wasn't sure I could do it, yet I wouldn't give up. I simply hated the idea of dying here.

By the start of the second week I began hallucinating. I heard voices, laughter, saw flashes, smelled the smells that I had long forgotten: cat's fur, hot ramen with red beans, Sakura's apple shampoo… My chest tightened. I was being driven to the edge, but they didn't know me if they thought I would surrender.

It was only natural that at first I mistook the sound of coughing for a hallucination. But it persisted, and I crawled towards the right wall, pressed my ear to the damp stone and listened. The sound repeated over time.

I reached out towards the opening and whispered:

"Hey! Anyone there?"

It sounded stupid. Even more so because the coughing stopped. I slid down on the floor and choked the spark of hope down.

The next few days passed as one. Each time I tried to revolt, all my attempts were brutally suppressed. I was experimented on more fiercely and wondered if they were running out of time. No one talked to me, no one answered my questions. I was treated like a ghost.

My condition got worse. Cold sweat replaced fever, and vice versa. I was haunted by vile dreams and visions, my heart pounded in my chest and my eyes hurt as if they were about to bleed.

One day after a particularly arduous resistance the voice of my neighbour finally reached me.

"Pretend you don't care anymore," he said. "They'll begin to lose their guard soon."

As much as I was unaccustomed to taking strangers' advice, I did this time. I simply lay there waiting and allowed them to take me wherever they wanted to. The next day I did the same thing – and I got a double portion of rice.

"Who are you?" I questioned my mysterious ally. "What is this place?"

"I'm not sure. I overheard the guards talking once. Looks like it's a Kekkei Genkai prison."

Kekkei genkai? My eyes grew wider. So they kept me here because of the bloodline limit. Of course! Everyone wanted a glimpse of the Sharingan. I couldn't help feeling extremely stupid.

The next few days we seldom talked. Nevertheless, I felt like I had known him my entire life. There was something in his voice that both soothed me and alarmed me. I knew the answer was right in front of me, yet I couldn't grasp it.

His cough got deeper, drier. The damp air of the cells only made things worse.

"Are you sick?" I asked once.

"Allergic to one of the preparations." The voice crackled. "I think."

Meanwhile they began to affect me more strongly as well. My hallucinations got worse and finally resulted in a fit of hysterics when I saw Naruto. He stood by the door, grinning in his usual annoying fashion, so bright, and sunny, and cheerful. I reached out to him hesitantly, but he remained unattainable like a perfect dream, and he said in an uncharacteristically low voice:

"Your place is right here, bastard."

They restrained me after I almost succeeded in activating the cursed seal. There were no more tests, and my neighbour didn't answer my calls. This time I was sure I would die.

But I didn't.

They released me two days later and continued their research. The next cell seemed to give away the signs of life again. I sat down to weigh my chances…

…and that brought us here.

"You want to run?" my neighbour asked. "I've already tried. Four times."

My mind exploded with panic. _How many!?_ I took a deep breath. After all, I was Uchiha Sasuke and I could do better.

I saved my chakra and trained to release even the most basic ninjutsu. Katon, Chidori – all these were sorely out of question, not to mention the Sharingan. After brief doubts I chose Kuchiyose no Jutsu. Not exactly _basic_ but it seemed like the most realistic choice for the time being. I doubted I could summon someone as powerful as Manda, but any help would come in handy.

"Prepare to run for the fifth time," I said.

"Hmm," the answer came.

Something I myself would have said.

The snake turned out to be big enough and highly paranoid. Go me, I managed to summon a paranoid snake. It was a fickle ally, yet I had little choice.

The snake panicked in the small room and virtually crushed its way out. Its wriggling shook the foundation of the pillars; the celing overhead began to tremble. I grasped the snake's tail, propelled myself onto its back and let it carry me out of the crumbling cell.

I set it on the guards who came by, perturbed by the noise, and recalled my promise to the man in the nearest cell. A tiny voice whispered to me to leave him be. I didn't know that man. I didn't owe him anything.

I ignored it and picked the lock cautiously. I did that a lot at Orochimaru's… It gladdened me to know I still had some skill left.

I said nothing, merely left the door open and let him follow me. My insane summons feasted on the guards. I let it be and ran forth and I heard the sound of another pair of feet behind me. I didn't look back.

We ended up in a cavernous hall where multiple corridors met like streams in the body of a river. I hesitated. I didn't remember how I got here; any of these halls could lead to freedom, and any of them could lead to death.

"Left," a steady voice behind me uttered.

I looked around finally. After what sounded like an eternity of deafening silence I said only:

"Fuck."

My heart sank. I should have known he hadn't died! Why in hell would he? After all, I was here. And I lived.

He looked thinner; his long hair which I couldn't remember if I had ever seen loose at all hung over his shoulders in greasy streaks. His eyes were the same muddy-red as the pillars inside my cell; I could barely see the tomoe.

I should have guessed why his voice seemed familiar.

Before I could protest, he gripped me by the elbow and turned left, tugging me along. His speed didn't abandon him. We ran so fast our feet barely brushed the floor. It was strange, almost frightening to think of us together.

_Us_…

From the corner of my eye I spotted a cloud of shuriken stars flung in our direction. I ducked. Itachi's grip on my arm loosened. He vanished out of sight while I reversed the shurikens and sent them back at their owners. My snake came to my aid, and I slithered out into the grey yard upon its strong back.

I moved slowly, in my opinion, much slower than an average rookie. Fresh air sickened me. They shot kunai complete with exploding seals at me. The wall of fire broke out between me and the fence. I leapt forth, the snake coiling and writhing beneath me, and barely avoided bumping into the hard stone. I wished to hell I had my sword with me.

Itachi was already on top of the fence. He reached out for me. I grasped his hand without much thinking. We flew over the fence, landed heavily on the grass and ran.

The faster we ran, the less susceptible to anything of the world around us I found myself. The colours got blurred and mixed into a sickening welter. My throat was dry, every rasping breath came out with huge efforts. Silence muffled every sound.

I didn't know how far we were when my legs wobbled and I fell on the ground, knees hitting something soft and slippery. Fat earth after the rain. My hand slid out of Itachi's grip. I pressed my palm flat against the muddy ground and struggled to breathe.

"How?" I gasped, appalled at how weak my voice sounded. "Is this a hallucination?"

"No," Itachi replied softly. His face remained unreadable. "We have to go."

"I am not… not going anywhere… with you!"

I forced myself up on my feet and lunged at him, barely conscious of the fact that I was unarmed and unable to perform any strong jutsu. Sickness rolled through me like a tidal wave. Itachi managed to dodge my blow, but in the end he was as drained as I was. He barely held his balance. I sank on my knees in front of him and whispered:

"What's… happening to me?"

I loathed us both at that moment. It was worse than any of my nightmares. To be so weak, so powerless before him once again after he had finally acknowledged my strength!

"The drugs," Itachi said casually. "You will get worse once you start coming off."

Really? Why, thank you so very much!

"Why… aren't they affecting… you?"

"They are. But yours are combined with the ones you took at Orochimaru's."

He flashed me a look that was a little too eloquent to my taste. So now he thought I was a drug addict!?

That alone would have made my day…

"You may believe you are free, little brother," Itachi continued, "but in truth you are as far from it as you were in your cell. This forest is a deadly maze. This is where I got caught three out of four times I attempted to run."

Now that he mentioned it, I finally noticed tall shaggy trees standing all around us. Soft wind brushed through the leaves. Dense foliage covered the sky completely; it created a permanent shade and gave off the feeling of eeriness and insecurity.

"Let's go," Itachi said.

Something clicked in my mind.

"Did you know it was me?" I asked in a deadpan voice.

He was silent for a moment. Then he nodded curtly and took off. Blinded by my rage, I darted after him. Something exploded in my chest. I dropped on my knees, panting, trying to rid myself of that unbearable tightness that compressed my lungs, and passed out.

* * *

I half-expected my eyes to be gone by the time I'd have woken up. I blinked to make sure the soothing darkness around me would not last forever, and slowly it settled in my mind that I was lying on the soft bedding of leaves. My body was aching all over, but it wasn't that much of discomfort, frankly speaking.

I wondered if the previous events had been the product of my traumatized mind. Alas, I spotted Itachi quite soon, and all my illusions were promptly dispeled.

He was sitting near me, one leg stretched forward, the other bent in the knee; his lax hand rested upon the knee.

"What d'you do?" I breathed before realizing how panicky I sounded.

Brother eyed me calmly. "Nothing. Do you feel better?"

No! Shouldn't that be bloody obvious?

Hoping it was (much like my growing murderous intent), I shut my eyes wearily. A few minutes later I registered a movement next to me, and the brother forced me up on my feet. I was about to comment on the obvious injustice of my treatment (he was stronger! did they feed him better or something?) when he knitted his eyebrows and said flatly:

"Does it look like I'm joking around?"

"I wouldn't expect that from a person who has no sense of humour," I mimicked his tone sweetly.

Did I mention that deep inside I'm a snarky bastard? Well, I can be excused: I'm on drugs…

Feeling my mental health was going down the drain (much like my reserve, calculativeness and sadly my ability to keep on my legs), I leaned heavily against Itachi, took a deep breath and straightened my back. My bones creaked. I didn't like those little sounds my joints were making, but I figured I'd leave it for later to solve.

Quietly, he started walking, and I joined him, lost in my own eerie thoughts.

I didn't know how long we spent on the road before Itachi suddenly came to a halt. It was so abrupt that I bumped into him, and it snapped me back to our misfortunate reality. The trees rustled quietly around us.

My spine went rigid. I always felt this kind of tension before battle; then my body would relax, power rushing in the streams of chakra, my Sharingan would flare to life, and I would be ready to crush any obstacle on my way. This kind of focused patience was something I had combined from both my teachers: Kakashi and Orochimaru.

This time no relaxation followed. I felt strained, my throat sore and burning, and I shivered when I felt brother's cool fingers brush my knuckles. They constricted around my hand in a moment. I couldn't see Itachi's face save for a glimpse of a sculpted cheekbone. He turned his head slightly, and his deep red eye flashed in warning.

I understood him.

And I marveled at it.

Fighting… not against Itachi, but _alongside_ him. It was enthralling.

It seemed so maddeningly ironic that I finally had my childhood dream come true. A wish granted – but in such appalling, twisted way, that I wanted to pout and demand my wasted time back.

Peachy.

Itachi sprang forth, and so did I. We moved as one, sliding speedily between the swaying bushes. Our pursuers (I only saw them as shadows gliding somewhere behind us) did not relent. We pushed up and landed on a huge branch high above the ground. The deep green and sweet-smelling cover of foliage overhead was so close that it smothered me.

It didn't do well being unarmed and close to fainting while ambushed by a swarm of enemies.

I broke a couple of strong pointed twigs and darted them like kunai. I managed to hit the traget twice, not strong enough to kill the men, but they fell unconscious and for some time occupied the attention of their colleagues.

We moved to another tree.

"Twelve," Itachi mouthed.

Twelve hunters to get two exhausted helpless escapees. Gee, I was flattered.

We managed to tear our way through the thicket and hopefully lose our pursuers. I could not sense them; neither could Itachi unless he was skillfully (and for no sane reason) pretending.

I struggled to catch my breath. This surreal atmosphere and my utter powerlessness were wearing me out. His fault. A mere thought of him had always had this destructive effect on me. His presence hindered me thinking properly.

I clenched and unclenched my fists, digging my ragged nails deep into the flesh of my palms, hoping it would sober me up. Pain always did. My hands looked unbearably white. I squinted. It hurt my vision. I could feel my eyes transforming, the Sharingan switching on and off, spinning like a broken Kaleidoscope.

Itachi gazed at me.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came. Something had gone terribly wrong. I was losing myself in a sudden fit of panic.

And finally, not caring how much it would hurt my pride, I screamed as loudly as my lungs could manage. I kept screaming and huffing and panting as my body hit the ground, and the world around me was consumed by vibrant white flames.

Afterwards, there was nothing.


	2. Madness Breaks and Runs

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? Itachi and Sasuke; no yaoi Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Chapter title from _Born Brothers_ by Mark van Doren. Lyrics from _Hell_ by Sarah Manguso.

**A/N**: Hey there! So sorry for such a long wait; workload almost killed me and the flashback scenes here drained the energy out of me. I'm remotely satisfied with the outcome, though. The story's progressing slowly, but it is progressing. Thank you so much for your wonderful reviews! They make my dull and boring days.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_**Madness Breaks and Runs**_

_The second-hardest thing I have to do is not be longing's slave._

_I s__it on a swing; it sways lightly under my weight, and every time I go up, I feel a tender breath of wind in my face, and I smile. I like smiling; I do that a lot. Can't say what I like so much about this simple action, but I have always been more of a physical person. Smiling makes expressing things I don't know how to talk about so easy._

_Subconsciously, I believe, I have a certain amount of grudge against people who don't smile. Or laugh, for that matter. I've known quite a few of my kinsmen who preferred voicing their feelings (like saying "How amusing!" instead of actually laughing at a joke) or keeping quiet at all. That makes me mistrust them instinctively. Little do I know that in a few years I will become just like that and look upon every smiling and outspoken person with mingled distrust and annoyance._

_But presently I'm four years old, riding an old swing in one of the Compound's yards and enjoying the view of the sunset sky. Roofs of the nearby houses stand against it in shadowy silhouettes. It's getting darker with each passing moment._

_The solemn silence is interrupted only by the squeak of the swing. Back and forth. To and fro. Up and down. It feels like I'm flying._

_It's getting late._

_I wonder when they notice that I'm gone._

_I close my eyes and__ inhale the sweet-scented wind that flows around me in warm current. My hand slides down the handrail of the swing; the pad of my finger rubs accidentally over the protruding river in the seat. My eyes flutter open as sharp, instantaneous pain shoots through the digit. It stings. I lose focus and lean back, forgetting the seat has no back. I tumble off the swing, roll over, and it passes right over me, nearly striking me. For a second I am short of breath, sprawled helplessly on the ground, too scared to look up. The swing creaks in its aimless flight, and that sound fills everything._

_Slowly, I look up. Brother is standing over me, looking down on me with impenetrable black eyes. I can't tell what he must be thinking._

"_Get up," he says quietly. When I don't comply, he reaches out and shoved me up on my feet._

_It is already too dark for me to see his face, but I can tell he is cross with me. He was out for a reason. I tried to track him down, but my ninja skills so far remain non-existent. I lost him soon enough which was no big deal really. I was still hoping to catch him on his way home. Apparently he really didn't want to be followed._

"_Let's go home," he says, and I cringe at how thick the disappointment in his voice is._

* * *

My eyes snapped open so abruptly that it hurt. The insane Sharingan dance seemed to be over; I had my regular vision adjusted. I felt the slippery thickness of blood coating my lips. I spat off. My face contorted with annoyance, and damn, my face muscles hurt.

I was sitting by a fallen tree. Straining my neck, I looked around. Instantaneous fear gripped me: a few thick trunks lay shattered all over the furrowed ground. The clearing looked like a battlefield distorted by a powerful ninjutsu.

Before I could even wonder what had transpired, Itachi explained:

"You had a seizure."

He looked almost bored. I decided to ignore him (or better, convince myself he was part of my nightmares) and slowly slid down and lay in the grass, looking nowhere.

The smell of cooking meat brought me back to life. I knitted my eyebrows inquiringly when Itachi held a piece of roasted fish out to me.

"There's a river nearby," he replied briskly to my unasked question. "Eat."

I stared at the food as if it were my personal enemy. Technically it could be, coming from Itachi. But I figured I'd never get strong again if I continued tormenting my body. Besides, I did feel somewhat hungry.

The fish was juicy, a bit spicy as if sprinkled with herbs. I devoured it rapidly, breathing its strong, ashy scent in. Only when I was full, it struck me: what if the food was poisoned?

I gagged. My stomach revolted against the food consumed in such haste. I bent over and vomited everything out. I clenched my teeth, trying hopelessly to contain a whimper.

Itachi's fingers swept my bangs away. I spat and coughed and cleared my throat forcefully. My eyes darted up to scrutinize him. His face remained bored and cool. As if I was throwing up in some alley after a killer party and he was there to help me out and take me home like a caring big brother should.

Only he'd made it sure I wasn't a party person.

My lips smeared with bloody spit and crumbs, I flashed him a twisted smile.

"Never thought you'd ask me not to kill you."

My remark left him unfazed.

"I never asked you that. However, if we fought, what do you think would happen next?"

I remained silent. He leaned closer and whispered in my ear:

"One of us dies and the other one goes straight back to the cell. Do you really want it?"

I laughed hoarsely. "It's my lucky day! You've acknowledged that you're weak without me."

Not exactly. I could say I twisted his words to suit my purpose since technically I'd only been a burden to him since our escape. If not for me, he might have already found the way out of the maze.

But then, he did say he had failed many times.

Itachi took a wide smooth leaf and used it as a napkin to wipe my mouth. I tore it out of his hand furiously. No way I'd let him treat me like a child! Protective big brother, huh?

* * *

As we moved on, the tightness in my chest transformed into unbearable stinging. I struggled to breathe, sweat dripping over my skin. Itachi stopped. He still had his back on me, so I couldn't exactly guess what he was thinking.

"This detox," I breathed weakly. "Can it be lethal?"

Knowing full well the affirmation might jeopardize both of our futures, I waited. If I didn't survive, what would it matter if I never got out of the forest? I was fairly certain I wasn't going back to prison: I would most likely die before the hunter-nins arrived.

"That's possible," Itachi said finally.

"Then you know what this means. I won't die before you."

I attacked. He stumbled backwards – it looked almost unintentional but I knew him far better than to believe I had taken him by surprise.

How was I planning to kill him with no weapons or jutsu and being half-drained of chakra? Perhaps with the raw and blind power of rage. But as we fought – rather messily, like kids rolling in the mud rather than two powerful shinobi battling each other – the pain in my body swelled until it gushed out in a scream, and I yielded to the familiar dizzying darkness as it took over me without much effort.

When I came to, Itachi was sitting beside me. I couldn't see much of him from this angle. His shoulders seemed tense, lean and taut with frayed fabric as they were. A strand of dusty hair fell over his left shoulder.

"We passed out," he replied promptly to my silent question.

"Both of us?"

"Yes." He glanced at me briefly. The slightest inclination of his head allowed me to see his dismal expression – probably the only human expression I had seen him wear in many years. "I must insist on calling truce again, Sasuke. I recognize your aspiration to kill me as soon as possible. However, I do not intend to go back to that prison and I shall do anything within my power to stop that from happening. Which part you play depends solely on you."

'Anything within his power' was actually a pretty limited option. But I refrained from pointing that out. My eyelids felt heavy. I took a shaky breath which resulted in a fit of dull ache in my chest and croaked:

"Teamwork, eh? Okay."

* * *

The night was cold and moist. Curled up in a foetal position, I lay on the ground, each breath coming out in a strained gasp. Incidentally, I was reminded of the first (and notably the last) time I suffered a flu. I must have been four or five years old; half of the children in the Compound had dropped with fever that summer. I had always hated wasting my time in bed, especially since Itachi was spending most of his time outdoors, doing some interesting (or so I'd thought) assignments.

I lay in bed all day, my nostrils red and swollen and covered in crust, and my throat sore, and my teeth clattering miserably in fever, with no company but my own regrets that I couldn't have joined my brother outside. For me, it was the utmost torture.

So much for the future shinobi.

On the third day of illness my fever subsided. I heard a commotion in the courtyard and, having taken all the precautions as to not get caught by Mom, crept outside to take a peek.

I saw Shisui-san pacing impatiently by the porch. (It is odd how little I remember him now even though he used to be regular visitor as our place.)

"Oi!" he called out all of a sudden; I shuddered in my hideout, thinking for a moment he had noticed me. "Hurry up! What are you, a girl?"

Brother appeared soundlessly right next to him, stealthy as always; I hadn't seen him come.

"Quiet," he deadpanned. Shisui-san flashed him an apologetic grin; although older, he always struck me as a less mature person than Itachi, at least on domestic level. "We have enough company already."

I froze, then decided it was pointless to pretend I wasn't there, and walked slowly towards the two, smiling sheepishly at them. Itachi frowned.

"Why are you up, Sasuke? Go back to bed."

"I wanna go with you," I murmured self-consciously. My voice sounded raspy, barely audible.

"Not until you get well," Itachi protested. I knew that in his interpretation it could as well mean 'never', but I was in the tender age when I still had hope. Itachi gazed at his companion quickly. "Excuse me."

"Nii-san, put me down!" I rasped in childish indignance when he flung me over his shoulder and carried me indoors. Shisui-san laughed and waved at me amiably. "I can walk! Brother!"

Itachi disregarded my pleas (much like always) and dropped me on the bed.

"Why can't I come?" I whined.

"You will. Once you're better."

He left, flashing me a stern glance. On any other child's face it would look ridiculous; Itachi wore that expression naturally.

He came home later in the evening and woke me up from my feverish sleep, stroking my hair gently. I asked him where he'd gone. He responded with an enigmatic smile, produced a volume of ninja stories from the nightstand drawer and read to me all evening through. When Mom called him to supper, he said he would eat with me.

I snapped out of my memories at a bittersweet realization: I was smiling. Thinking about Itachi and what he had taken from me – and smiling. That hadn't happened to me in a long time, if ever.

A fit of coughing cut my ruminations short. I turned to glance at Itachi, but before I could gloat I felt a terrible tightness in my throat as if a fist was squeezing it. I lay there wheezing and panting as tears welled up in my eyes, and when I heard Itachi rise and walk away through the softly rustling grass, I almost screamed:

"Don't leave me!"

He returned a while later. I was just in the middle of being tormented by excruciating nausea as if something had stuck in my throat and I couldn't get it out. Itachi squatted beside me and held out what seemed to be a roughly cut fleshy leaf. I skewed up on him, my breath ragged.

"The juice makes it easier to breathe," Itachi explained.

"Since when are you good at herbs?"

"Since forever." Was that a bit of arrogance? "Do you want me to teach you?"

I shuddered as another wave of convulsions rolled though me, and knocked his hand aside. I didn't need anything from him. He shrugged and walked back to his spot, covering his mouth as he began to cough again. Even in my worn out condition I couldn't help but notice that he placed the leaf on a flat rock not too far from me. Whatever! I didn't intend to take it.

Little by little I began drifting off into a restless, fever-induced sleep. Considerably peaceful at first, it soon evolved into a nightmare. I woke up in a few hours (it might have been minutes; I was too weakened to judge), gasping for air, as a hard, sickening feeling churned in my stomach. Desperate, I reached out for the leaf Itachi had left and stuffed it in my mouth. I sank my teeth in it and tasted the juice that spilled generously down my throat. It was cool and fresh and echoed peppermint. It eased the breathing almost immediately.

I looked up, and my eyes entrained into Itachi's. It remained a mystery to me how he managed to see with those strange mud-red orbs. I fell on my side and turned my back at him, perplexed.

* * *

Itachi roused me in a few hours. For all I knew, it was not yet daybreak.

We walked slowly through the forest, as featureless as ever, Itachi slightly ahead of me while I lagged behind, exhausted, for the night's rest had brought me no peace. My skull buzzed from the inside with dull infinite ache; I could barely focus my vision so as not to lose sight of my brother.

There. I thought it again. _Brother_. 'Brother' had long since lost its meaning in my vocabulary. It was just a vestigial word to describe how Itachi was related to me. Lately, though, the old, the good, the warm meaning began worming its way back. What he _had_ _meant_.

I wanted none of this.

This wasn't some cheesy soul-searching quest, a last minute solution to all my problems. I was not stuck with him by my choice. All I knew was that somehow when he was supposed to die he didn't, and after we were through, I would have to finish my job.

I blamed my weakness – mental even more than physical – on drugs.

I failed to notice when we stepped out of the mirkwood and into a beautiful, sun-filled realm of crystal lakes and waterfalls that crashed down from steep cliffs in shiny cascades. Beneath the surface, the clearest water I had ever seen, the fish lay perfectly still so that at times it seemed it wasn't alive.

The contrast between this and the forest startled me so that at first I thought I was hallucinating again.

"Maybe you are," Naruto commented.

I uttered my customary 'hn'. Then it hit me: what the hell was Naruto doing here?

"Kind of like survival training, isn't it?" he mused. I squinted up at him: he was standing in the middle of a small pond, shimmering gold against turquoise water, grinning at me. _Of course_. "For all you know, you might still be stuck in the Forest of Death, going through the aftermath of Orochimaru's bite."

I knitted my eyebrows. "Is that what you think?"

Itachi cast me a neutral glance.

"Dumbass!" Naruto laughed in his rich, throaty laughter. "I'm not even here! I'm just a figment of your very drugged brain, so clearly it's what you think."

I decidedly ignored the flashy idiot, picked up speed and caught up with Itachi. Out of two evils I thought I chose the lesser: at least I would feel no guilt there. Besides, my brother was (supposedly) real.

"Wouldn't your partner be looking for you?" I wanted to know.

"No. I'd told him that if I didn't come back, I was dead. Yours would assume the same, I believe."

I snorted at the assumption. No doubt they would.

I decided to take my mind off the matter for the time being. I felt dizzy again and staggered back from the lake, afraid I would fall in. For a moment all the colours blurred into a freakish distorted mud rainbow. The splashing overwhelmed me, though to my sight the fish and the water were still just as motionless.

"What are you doing, Sasuke?" Itachi's voice reached me.

I hated myself at that moment, recalling once again all the efforts to prove him that I wasn't a weakling. Completely wasted.

"Trying to keep away from the water," I croaked.

He came up and touched my forehead. I wanted to push him away, but I didn't even have the strength to raise my hand.

"What water?"

My mind went dark. For a brief moment all that I could see were his eyes.

I snapped back to reality and saw the familiar thicket around me. No lakes, no waterfalls… no orange idiot somewhere on the periphery. Can't say I was disappointed.

Maybe a little bit.

I was leaning against one half of a massive tree with two accrete trunks. Its leafage seemed somewhat brighter; small light-green leaves rustled gently in the wind I couldn't feel. A few dark petals that could be cherry blossom floated in the air.

I lifted my hand, looked at it for a while as if I was seeing it for the first time and pushed Itachi at the shoulder. He moved aside, almost like a shadow, letting me pass, and we resumed our crossing.

* * *

_I trot after Itachi, sulking, along the dark streets of the Compound__. My finger still smarts, but it's just barely noticeable now. I have a lot of things on my mind, the primary one being: how to make Itachi stop being angry at me. I'm not even sure why exactly he is like this._

_While we walk, I turn my head, and shivers run briskly down my spine. I'm staring at __one of the houses that is slightly obscured by the flowering trees. It is round-shaped; its walls are darker than those of other buildings nearby. If you look closer, it becomes obvious they are covered in jet-black glazing that has been scaling off for as long as I can remember. The windows have been boarded up for years. In the thickening darkness the house looks like an illustration from a ghost story._

_I gulp down nervously._

_Not _this_ place. Anywhere but here. Did Itachi take this road on purpose? No, that's too cruel even for him. Everybody knows this house should be avoided._

_Yet the knowledge that I'm standing so close to this house fills me up with excitement. Every child in the Compound (probably every child in the village for that matter) has heard stories of brave daredevils that ventured to explore it. No one has seen them, though; that is why it is my belief that no one has made it out alive._

"_Is that–?" I am repulsed by the fact that my voice is trembling treacherously. Not in front of Itachi! "The Haunted House?"_

_Itachi casts one bored glance at the black building and shrugs. "If you believe such things."_

_I am taken aback by his reaction. What on earth does he mean by that?_

"_Wait, a-are you saying that you don't?" Forsaken all caution, I practically yell at him: "Come on! Everybody knows this is where the mad Uchiha Aja used to live! Or maybe she still does. Maybe she still walks those empty halls like a restless ghost!"_

_While I'm saying that, I circle around Itachi, trying to look as serious as I can. In this case, believing an old story is a matter of life and death._

_Itachi cocks his head and surveys the Haunted House once more._

"_Well, only one way to find out." And he begins walking right in that direction._

_Now that he said what I wanted to hear I suddenly realize it wasn't such a good idea. My heartbeat is hammering in my ears. I run past him, turn back and throw my hands up as a warning sign._

"_Are you serious?__ What if she really is out there!? There are all sorts of tales about her, you know." Right now I'm feeling very smart because obviously Itachi doesn't know enough; otherwise, he wouldn't be so foolish as to suggest going in. "Some say she flays people alive and makes clothes out of their skin! Some say she prays to dark spirits and paints creepy pictures, using human blood as paint!"_

_Well, if _that_ isn't convincing enough, I don't what else is. _

_Itachi sighs in defeat._

"_You're right. It's probably a bad idea." _Phew_! "If you're scared."_

_I glare at him._

"_What? Whoever said I was scared? I'm just–." A word from Dad's vocabulary promptly comes to the rescue. "I'm just being sensible."_

_Itachi smirks__. "Sure-sure. You know what 'sensible' is? A civil way to say scared."_

_I growl in exasperation. So that's what you're up to, huh?_

"_I am not scared!" I declare proudly. "And I'll prove it!"_

_Before he can protest I run across the street, spring into the overgrown garden and find the front door unlocked. The porch makes long-drawn-out creaks that sound like moans. I creep inside the abandoned house. Brother follows me closely._

_I look around in the dusty darkness. __It is really quiet here; the rhythm of my own heartbeat sounds impossibly deafening. I take a few steps forth, deeper into the hall. Floorboards sigh beneath my feet. I gawk around warily, hoping to register the appearance of the mad woman in time before she does something nasty to me._

_The hall ends abruptly, and I find myself standing in front of the broken__ screen doors. I can see a room through them, most likely a dining room. After a brief moment of hesitation I step over the shattered doorpiece and enter the room._

_Everything there is covered in thick layers of dust. It swathes like half-melted spring snow over every surface. It reassures me. Dust is a good thing; it indicates no one is at home and no one has been at home for ages. If she were still here, if she still used this room, for example, she'd surely leave some prints, right?_

…_Unless she really is a ghost._

_I gnaw at my lip nervously, trying not to think about it.__ The room itself is quite interesting. There is a tea set on a low traditional table. It is made of delicate china and painted with pictures of marvelous birds. The paint is bleak; it has almost come off in places._

_I __walk bashfully across the room and spot another door. It is an undamaged fusuma decorated with bleared forest landscapes. My hand hovers over it for a while like I'm afraid to open it. I remind myself that this is what I'm here for – to prove brother I am not afraid of anything. My heart beats even faster, though I didn't think it could be possible. I'm in the house of Aja, the Haunted House, for heaven's sake! I might as well make the best of it!_

_I walk decisively into the room that is hidden behind the door. It is somehow a lot darker there. I blink my eyes several times._

_I'm not sure what kind of a room it is. The floor is laid out with holey, worn-out tatami mats. The walls are covered in scribblings, never-ending columns of kanji I don't even know yet going down to the floor and disappearing in old splashes of ink._

_A piece of fabric in the corner of the room captures my attention. I squat beside it, touch it reverently and realize with awe that it is in fact a wedding kimono. This pitiful piece of greyish material was once a pristine white ceremonial shiro-maku, the kind of which I saw Mom wear on her wedding pictures._

_Was Aja ever married? The thought strikes me as nearly impossible. My logic is simple and slightly twisted as every four-year-old's logic is: if she was married, she was _happily married_, and happily married people don't go mad and don't paint pictures with human blood._

_I raise my head and notice a rolled scroll on the wall. Curiosity gets the best of me. I pull the string; it unrolls swiftly, raising a cloud of dust. I cover my nose with my hand, coughing; dust nips at my eyes. When it dissipates, I move nearer, wishing to have a better look at the scroll. It is a picture – and it takes my breath away._

_It is a young woman depicted in motion. Her sleek white hair__ flares around her like a smooth train. The Sharingan blazes fiercely in her eyes. Her hand is extended forth, fingers raised as if she is beckoning someone; the other is bent in the elbow, holding a kunai._

_She is beautiful._

"_Hey, come take a look at this!" I call out in a trembling whisper. It strikes me then that I haven't felt Itachi's presence ever since I came into the tea room._

_I spin around, greatly unnerved. He isn't here. I call him again, this time a bit louder, but get no response. Great. Stupid big brother left me here._

"_Nii-san!" I squeal desperately. "C'mon, this is not funny!"_

_Not a bit._

_Yet he doesn't respond._

_Time to panic._

_The floor cackles in the distance. I open my mouth, then shut it abruptly. The sound comes from above. What if it's not Itachi? What if it's–?_

_My breath catches in my throat. I'm doomed!__ I know I need to get out of here, but my legs refuse to obey me. I am petrified; standing in the corner is all that I can do. The steps grow louder. I am certain my heart will pop out of my mouth any minute. I have never been so frightened in my entire life. And what a short and uneventful life it was!_

_Just when I see a dark shape outside the fusuma, the footsteps die down. I knit my eyebrows. Something's definitely not right. And then I feel it. The presence in the room. She is here, right here. While I was staring at the door in dread, she materialized noiselessly right next to me and is now waiting for me to turn around. Resistance is futile. Well, at least I'll find out for sure what she does to trespassers._

_I turn around very slowly. Maybe if I look guilty enough she'll have mercy.__ Just as I am about to finally see her, she lunges at me and barks: "Boo!" in a quite recognizable voice. I jump back, yelping in fear, and find myself both relieved and vaguely disappointed to find out it is Itachi pulling a stupid joke on me._

"_Don't ever do that again!" I gasp out, running up to him and pushing at him resentfully._

_Brother chuckles mildly. I can't really stay mad at him; after all I would have done the same._

"_Now, Sasuke," brother says st__rictly, "I hope you've had enough."_

_I can't express how grateful I am for that statement. It is my way out of the house without having to admit I don't want to stay here any longer. I bet Itachi knows it, but neither of us mentions it. Before we leave, I point curiously at the scroll and ask:_

"_Is that–?"_

"_That's Aja, yes.__ They say she was a legendary kunoichi during the Third's early years. She fought many battles and took the most reckless and dangerous missions. Her hair went grey at an early age, and they called her the White Tigress."_

"_She's beautiful," I draw out in admiration. And then add in a lower voice, still afraid that Aja might be here to hear me: "Mom's prettier, though."_

_Itachi chuckles expressionless. "She has to be. She's Mom."_

_As we finally get out, I breathe in and out several times, enjoying the fact that__ I have made it out of the Haunted House alive. But I won't brag about it. I'm too cool for that. I suppress the desire to ask Itachi if he had already been here (I bet he had; even he couldn't have maintained his usual equanimity otherwise) and instead wonder:_

"_She was so cool. What happened to her?"_

"_No one knows for sure," brother answers __thoughtfully. "There is one story that seems like it could be true, though." _

_I beam at him: I love it when he tells stories._

"_There was a war__," he begins, and his face darkens slightly (it always does when the word 'war' is uttered) "between the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning. The Uchiha clan fought on the frontline, the White Tigress among them, of course. But one day she was captured by a squad of Cloud ninja. It was the first mission she failed. While she was held captive, Aja fell in love with the captain of that squad."_

"_The enemy?" I breathe out slowly. Nothing good could come out of it. Especially if you're Uchiha. Even I, being young and naïve as I am, know it._

"_Yes. He loved her back and for a while they forgot about the war and were happy together. It is uncertain how Aja returned home, but several months later she had a baby." My lips form a silent 'Oh!' "Aja hoped that after the war was over she would rejoin with her lover, retire and raise their son in times of peace. Eventually the daimyo of the two nations decided to call a truce. The hidden villages called their shinobi off; all but two squads stuck in a battle against each other. The order reached them too late; all of them died. The Cloud squad was the one captained by Aja's lover._

"_Her heart was bro__ken. The baby was the only memory she had left of the man she loved, so she dedicated herself to him completely. However, she was soon robbed of it as well."_

_In spite of myself, I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I sniff wetly and slump my shoulders._

"_Officially it was an accident," Itachi goes on; then his voice drops to a whisper, "but it is most likely the doing of Aja's brothers who were appalled by the fact that their sister had borne the child of an outsider._

"_That was more than she could bear. She secluded herself in the house. After her brothers got killed on missions one by one__ she had the walls painted black as the sign of eternal mourning. This is how the rumours started."_

_End of story. I look up to see our own house, and there is a warm feeling in my chest. I'm glad we're home. Even glad to see Father standing at the gate, scrutinizing us disapprovingly. It is only now that I realize how awfully late we are._

"_Guess I shouldn't have told you that before sleep," Itachi murmurs, observing my chalk-white face. "The house itself must have given you enough nightmares for one night."_

_I don't answer because__ we've already come abreast with Father and he is looking at us inquiringly._

* * *

Time is one crazy concept. Here I could swear we'd been walking for days without rest; yet the same greyish dusty road lay beneath my feet, surrounded by the same bushes, and even the same–.

Oh hell.

I stopped abruptly, ignoring the violent twist my stomach gave at that.

"Okay, who died and made you the leader?"

"I just happen to know the way," Itachi replied calmly, facing me.

I smirked.

"Oh yeah? Then why is it the third time I see this tree!?"

I pointed stubbornly at the twin tree that had captured my attention before. Itachi continued staring at me. Despite myself, I was getting worked up. My helplessness unnerved me.

"What!?" I blurted out. "Yes, I can count to three!"

Finally he skewed up on the tree, cocked his head and said:

"Then we shall take another road."

He strolled up through the grass, and as I followed, I heard him say under his breath:

"Only to three?"

He was making my blood _boil_. I wanted to kill him slowly, to savour the moment. I hadn't realized I'd had so much anger in me. I was practically drowning in it.

At the same time I required company and he was all I had. Now that I had a chance to reason, it came to me that I had never been completely alone since the formation of Team Seven. I had always had my sensei and my teammates – if only shadows compared to the ghosts of my kinsmen. Later there was Orochimaru and Team Hebi. Debatable company, I know, but I did have them and, damn, I was accustomed to their attention.

"What kind of a drug is that?" I queried. Couldn't help myself: I was too used to Itachi having all the answers.

"It affects your neurological system like a paralytic drug would make you lose control of your muscles."

"You seem to know quite a lot about all that. How do I know you're not part of it?"

Itachi shrugged. "You don't."

The idea of me still being stuck in the Forest of Death suddenly popped in again. Lovely.

I grabbed Itachi by the forearm.

"How do I know you're even real?"

"Would you trust me if I said I was?"

I released him. I was beginning to feel plainly pathetic.

"I wouldn't trust you," I spat vehemently, "even if you said grass was green."

And there had been the time I'd have believed him if he'd said penguins could fly…


	3. Monsters That Live In Dreams

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; no yaoi] Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Lyrics from _Little Brother_ by Robert William Service.

**A/N**: Ouch… it's been what, almost two months? I'm so sorry. To all of you who are reading this story: you are awesome! It's hard for me to write, so thank you for your patience. Especially you. You know who you are. XD In this chapter we take a small break from Sasuke being insane. This time it's time to peek inside Itachi's head.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

_**Monsters That Live in Dreams**_

_I am old and little care;  
I'll be cold, my lips be dumb:  
Brother mine, beware, beware . . .  
__Evil looms the wrath to come._

Itachi remembered Shisui fondly – perhaps more so than any other kinsman of his – though he never mentioned him, and not just because he wished to distance himself from the memories, but because in all these years he had no one to discuss the Mirage with.

Itachi was far too young when Shisui died. Sometimes he wondered what would have become of this companionship had Shisui lived.

At eight Shisui was rather conceited and full of himself – the quality that was reduced to nothing as he progressed and gained real reasons to be proud of himself. He was outspoken and brash – a stark contrast to Itachi's solemn composure, so uncharacteristic of a child. They got stuck together a while back: Itachi who had always looked somewhat older than he was was cool in Shisui opinion. Naturally he was promptly declared 'uncool' as soon as Shisui had learnt his true age. However, the next instant Itachi called him 'senpai'; vain as he was, Shisui pronounced the prodigy his best friend and seemed to forget he had wanted to give this 'friendship' up.

Little by little, the two got truly close. They spent a lot of time together whenever circumstances were on their side. As a friend, Shisui considered it his first and foremost duty to interrogate Itachi throughout the workout as to why he had been so quiet all day.

Finally the boy yielded and muttered under his breath, "I'm going to have…"

A loud 'bang!' drowned out the rest of the phrase: an explosive seal went off on the other field.

"You're going to have what?" Shisui prodded impatiently.

"A baby brother."

Shisui gaped at him, then shut his mouth noisily and finally grinned.

"Whoa! Some news! Congrats! Or sorry if it's a bad thing."

"It is a good thing," Itachi said; the look on his face suggested exactly the opposite.

"How do you know it's a boy, though?" Shisui wondered while they were walking slowly towards his house.

"I just do," shrugged Itachi.

"It'd be funny if you were stuck with a cute little baby girl!"

Itachi frowned. He never even regarded a possibility of having a sister. Not that he would have minded so much, but something told him it should be a brother – and having a little brother might be nice…

"Anyhow, the baby's lucky," Shisui mused. "The war's almost over. He'll probably be among the first to be born in the time of peace."

As the memory faded to black like an old film, Itachi found himself looking at the sleeping Sasuke. Looking and looking, unable to turn away. He probably didn't remember much of Shisui.

Itachi rose reluctantly. He didn't want to leave Sasuke alone in his current condition, but they ran out of food quickly enough (for someone who couldn't hold the food in his stomach for more than five minutes, Sasuke consumed inexcusably much of it).

The trees whispered softly as he walked through the forest. He could feel no wind (that didn't surprise him, seeing as this place had a lot of paradoxes in store); occasionally the branches would move and creak, but no bird or beast was visible through the dense leafage. The pressure of silence caused pain in his ears. Itachi leaned heavily against a tree, gasping for air which suddenly seemed hot and thick in his throat as though an invisible hand was squeezing it in its grasp. He burst out coughing and spat off a viscous clot of blood.

It was coming again. And he had no medicine left.

He slid down on the ground and sat still for a while, eyes shut, dull ache pulsing through his skull. They both had grave reasons to live, Sasuke and him. Different, but similarly important nonetheless. Itachi never feared death, but he did fear imprisonment. His memory flashed back to the dirty walls closing in on him. He inhaled shakily, still feeling the pungent taste of blood in his mouth. As he opened his eyes he saw the earth lined with shadows and covered in brittle grass, and specks of dust swirling in the faint starlight that came through the breach in the canopy of leaves.

No walls.

A sudden movement made Itachi look up. His spine went rigid. Keeping as quiet as he could, he wrapped his fingers around a sharp stick, almost a ready spear, and raised his hand. Seconds dragged on. The bushes rustled again. Itachi flung the stick; judging by the twitching of the brushwood, he hit the target.

He willed himself to get up, pushed the bushes apart and scrutinized his bag. It was… Itachi frowned. A rabbit of some kind. And a pretty ugly one too. He couldn't say exactly what was wrong with it, but the animal didn't seem… healthy? edible? Itachi picked the carcass up reluctantly. The thought of having to eat that made him sick.

He imagined juicy red flesh breaking apart between his teeth. Persistent, rich taste of cooked meat clinging to the roof of his mouth. Leaving the sickening aftertaste that turns even the most delicious meal to junk.

Itachi dropped the rabbit and knelt in front of a moss-grown stub, pressing his forehead against the prickly dry weed. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

The dead animal winked at him. The sound of rain crashed down on him but the air was dry, electrified with some unknown power. Itachi raised his head, striving to ignore the pain in his eyes.

His hand drowned in the abundant undergrowth that surrounded the stub. He examined the delicate heart-shaped leaves more closely, then wrapped his fingers around a handful of them and pulled. The herbs came out easily, leaving the roots intact. Clasping them in his hand and picking the rabbit once more, Itachi walked back to the campsite.

* * *

_Sometimes they take a detour on the way to the __police station and come across all sorts of things. A secret flower garden of an old woman who lives in a lop-sided little house alone with a dozen of cats. A candle shop at the back of an alley – they never knew it was there. An animal shelter supervised by a group of orphaned children. It's hard to imagine how much is hidden out of sight in Konoha; bit by bit the boys begin looking for these things on purpose, prolonging their way to the station as much as possible._

_Itachi loves discovering these new delicate things that are of no __practical value. He doesn't share these discoveries, for once not even with Sasuke. It's quite enough that he has Shisui to share them with._

_He likes observing Shisui's reaction just as much. Composed and reserved at work, the Mirage sheds his illusionary image and turns into the cheerful, lively kid again. Itachi smiles sadly: unlike Shisui, he can never feel his age. At times like these, he almost envies his friend._

_One day, as they walk__ abreast along the narrow street, the faint sound of music reaches their ears. They turn their heads simultaneously. Shisui delivers a foxy grin; before Itachi can protest (today should be a really important day, no ditching… oh well) he darts up to the roof, hops down on the other side of the house and slides stealthily into the back street. Itachi lands near him, graceful like a cat._

_For a moment both of them are dazzled with __lights, flaring atilt. The music plays louder, and the air itself seems to shake and ring with the cacophony of drums, pipes, strings, the dry noise of percussion and fizzy explosions produced by some unknown, unseen instruments._

_There are people dancing, kneading the ground with their feet forcefully – and it seems the ground itself is dancing as though it is some nimble, agile animal, and the dancers are lodged on its back. They are all kids, a few of the barely older than Shisui. Most of them are Genin. The younger ones are still in the Academy. There are even a few Chuunin present._

"_Whoa!" Shisui gasps. And then his jaw drops._

_Itachi follows his gaze and spots a slim girl spinning in a continuous motion in the centre of the improvised dance-floor. Her moves are sleek, graphic – and daring. Shisui stared at her, mesmerized. She takes note of him too, and moves fluidly in his direction._

"_Do something!" Shisui whispers breathlessly._

"_Me?" Itachi grimaces. "It's your call."_

_The next thing he knows, Shisui is being tugged into the__ improvised dancefloor, and the honey-dark body clings to him, and the music overtakes him._

'_Officer down,' Itachi thinks with a touch of cool humour, leaning against the wall. Shisui is already inexcusably late for work and he'd be damned if he cares but a little._

_Her name is trivial: Akane or Ayame or whatever. Itachi pretentiously forgets it every time Shisui brings it up, even though he knows full well he's not fooling anyone: his memory has always been flawless. For weeks she is everything Shisui talks about. Itachi suspects that she is everything Shisui even _thinks_ about._

"_Ask her out," Itachi says when it becomes unbearable to watch Shisui agonize so dramatically._

_Itachi feels insecure and inexperienced: it is hardly his place to give advice on somebody's love life (even if said 'somebody' is the person he knows best). But he knows for sure that while they are on a mission, under the showers of missiles and projectiles and the bursts of enemy ninjutsu, it is hardly fitting to discuss girls._

"_Would I things were that simple," Shisui mutters dismissively._

_The day her body is delivered it rains. It is summer; the rain is hot and thick like soapy water. It crashes down on the village in bucketfuls__, churning the mud into steamy foam._

_It is a week-end. The station is empty save for a few officers on duty. Itachi wanders the hallways in search of his father and spots two paramedics taking a hospital gurney towards the mortuary. The pair and their burden seem grotesquely out of place here, even though Itachi is well aware that dead bodies usually circulate around the police station like diamonds at the black market._

_The paramedics come to a halt, breaking off the tinkling sound of the wheels spinning over the floor. One of them reaches towards the mortuary door code panel to submit the code. Everyone here is just as paranoid as in any other Hidden Village._

_Itachi come nearer and lifts the sheet that covers the body. It was a hunch; now it is the undeniable truth. It's her. Pale, unearthly; all her impertinent liveliness has been drained from her image. This way he likes her even less._

"_Itachi," father's discontent voice calls him. "What the devil are you doing there? We have work to do."_

_The paramedics notice the boy for the first time as he lowers the sheet in place, erasing the remains of her image from his memory.__ Shinobi die all the time._

"_You might want to inform Shisui-san," he tells the paramedics. Let it be them._

_After that there is no more dancing in the streets.

* * *

  
_

Itachi approached the faded campfire quietly and sat down to prepare the rabbit. Somewhere along the way he became aware that Sasuke had woken up and was scrutinizing him with weary, lacklustre eyes. The boy looked much more fragile now than he actually was.

The silence was getting oppressive. Itachi rekindled the fire and hung the carcass over it, then, seemingly having remembered something, took the heart-shaped leaves out of his pocket and placed them in front of Sasuke. The boy crouched and knitted his eyebrows quizzically.

"Poison," Itachi said. "I promised to share the knowledge."

"You did?"

"Consider it a favour." _You can try it out on me_ was what he left out.

Sasuke took the herbs uncertainly, straightened the intricately shaped leaves out and examined them curiously. Itachi watched him from the corner of his eye. He was but a blurry silhouette to him now, but he hardly needed a better view. He remembered every detail of his little brother's face. Every clean-cut feature, every pouty line of his half-smiles, every angry flare in his eyes. Pretend as he might, Sasuke hadn't changed that much.

He could also see things about Sasuke that Sasuke himself failed to notice in his deliberately narrow frame of mind. The way he shifted his weight lazily, reaching out to toss more firewood into the fire, the way he twirled the herb between his fingers and then put it aside decidedly, the way he avoided looking at Itachi but didn't hesitate to shut his eyes in his presence – everything indicated that he felt more relaxed, even though, if reminded of it, he would have undoubtedly denied it.

"How long have you been with the Akatsuki?" Sasuke asked once the meal was ready.

Itachi took his eyes off his piece with effort and replied quietly:

"Ever since I left Konoha."

"Why them?"

"They attract power." The prominent sound of a bone snapping made him shiver. He gulped down and added, "And madness."

"Why would you need that?"

"I like to keep an eye on those who may be stronger than I am." _To measure my capacity; you should be aware of this by now._

"Is that a reason to work for them?" Sasuke prodded.

Itachi cocked his eyebrows. Curious; was there a note of concern in his little brother's voice? Sasuke must have felt it too. He lowered his head and concentrated on chewing his lump of meat for a while. The silence laced with the sound and the smell of food washed violently through Itachi.

"Let's just say, this is my way of earning my living and doing what I like."

Unexpectedly, Sasuke snorted. "You like chasing Naruto? For what, three years already?"

"What will you do once this is over?" Itachi asked to change the subject. It might not have been exactly subtle, but Sasuke in his drugged state would not have noticed anyway.

The youth placed his palms flat against the ground on both sides of his knees and was struggling to breathe past another spasm of pain. A thought, oddly alien, flashed in Itachi's mind: _he does look underfed_…

"I can't tell you anything," Sasuke said in a husky, determined voice. "There may not yet be any future for me. But I can't let that happen. I'll see what I can do… in the aftermath."

"Will you go back?"

"I want to correct the mistakes of my past."

Itachi smiled bitterly. "You'd better learn not to make new ones."

The taste of blood flooded his mouth. He kept his teeth clenched, unwilling to let Sasuke see the blood as it would dribble down his chin. It was the seizure; he could feel it coming. Last time it happened, pain had pierced every cell of his body, rising from his lungs, crushing him from the inside like there was a sea of blood…

Sasuke took a deep breath. "It's much more complicated, Itachi."

A long pause followed. Then Sasuke drew out carefully:

"I am not happy with the path I had to take. But I must walk it. I can choose a new one only when I finish it. I can't turn back now and I can't move on. There's a lot of obstacles on my way, but I… I can't just…" His eyes suddenly looked huge and childishly frightened. "I'm so close, Itachi! To that end."

_And it scares the shit out of me._

Itachi rose, shaking, and dragged his feet away from the campfire, forcing out in a choked voice: "You sleep some more."

Once he was out of sight and earshot, Itachi spat the blood out feverishly. His mouth was on fire.

* * *

'_Oh God… I can't breathe. I can't breathe! What's… What have I–?'_

_Thud._

'_I need to… I need to calm down.'_

_The floor creaks gently._

'_Stop.'_

_A patch of pale light is splashed across the floor. The window is half-open. The night is quiet, almost serene, pitch-black and strewn vaguely with pearly starshine. Itachi's heart is thumping violently in his chest, but on the outside he is perfectly composed – just like that peaceful night that has veiled a slaughter-house in its shroud of darkness._

_Nothing is to be uncovered till morning comes._

_Itachi slips inside the Hokage's office and falls on one knee, head lowered respectfully, though, try as he might, he feels no respect. Just some feeble, barely real gratitude towards the man: at least he _tried_ to stop it._

_His throat is numb. He can't make himself speak._

_The Sandaime is standing near the wall of portraits opposite the picture of the Shodai. Clad fully in his ceremonial attire, he resembles a ghost of pure white, shimmering in the dark._

"_It is done," Itachi reports in a steady, emotionless voice._

_The Third has his back on him; Itachi can tell a nod only by the slight ripple across the white train that falls from his headgear._

"_There is one thing I shall ask of you," Itachi adds._

_At this the old man turns round. His face is dark and his eyes are sad. Suddenly Itachi begins to feel the same. Not anger, or fear, or resentment – but irrevocable sorrow, clear as that milky-white starlight, and he knows it will follow him forever._

_The Third keeps silent. He doesn't apologize, doesn't try to explain anything. Itachi is glad; words would make him hate the man, and he doesn't want that._

"_Keep my brother safe."_

'_Please. It isn't so hard.'_

_The Sandaime's brow quirks._

"_Sasuke is–?"_

"_Yes." The word spoken in a hushed whisper, nonetheless, sounds louder than a cannon volley. "Let him grow up safe and strong. Let him worship them as heroes. And never, _never_ let him know the truth."_

_His face is still a mask of stone, but he knows the despair in his eyes gives him away._

'_Just promise me already! Is it too much to ask?'_

"_You have my word," the Third says pointedly. He reaches out hesitantly as if to pat Itachi's shoulder, but his hand falls away._

_Itachi nods curtly and vanishes into the night. If things go as planned, the village will not hear of him again._

_There is one more unfinished business, though. He halts briefly, struggling to catch his breath. His head is spinning._

'_No… Can't let it… No! I can't… I… throw up… feel sick… Argh…'_

_His mind explodes with panic; he feels drugged, weakened, and the knowledge that something horrible that can never be undone has happened floods him, and he chokes on it._

_Light flickers in Danzou's window. Unlike the Third, he doesn't even try to pretend he is sleeping. Itachi makes it inside the room noiselessly. Danzou is the only one left to deal with. The Elders don't matter, but Danzou could be a threat._

"_Have you changed your mind?" a gruff voice asks._

_Itachi looks up at the wrinkled face in bandages. He loathes Danzou and the likes of him. Even looking at him makes Itachi sick. By rights it is Danzou who should be lying on the floor in the pool of blood, not his parents._

"_I have come to warn you," Itachi says, ignoring Danzou's mocking gaze. "Uchiha Sasuke, my brother, is alive. And I intend to keep it this way. Should but a hair fall off his head, I will–."_

"_What?" Danzou scoffs. "Kill me?"_

_Itachi snorts gently. "Taking your life is not my objective.__ You will die someday without my help. I will simply tell everything there is to know about Konoha to every hostile nation in the world. Imagine how many enemies you already have. When the village becomes an easy prey and a weak ally, everyone will have turned their backs on you."_

"_You will not dare." Danzou's voice sounds confident, but beneath all that assuredness his tone is dripping with panic. Itachi smiles inwardly. "That will make your sacrifice meaningless."_

'_If Sasuke dies, it is meaningless either way.'_

"_Trust me, you would not want to test your fortune__. Security of one surviving Uchiha in exchange for peace and prosperity of Konoha. I expect you to comply."_

_Now it is officially over._

_Itachi flees, leaving his crime scene behind, and hopes for a storm, for rain and wind and lightning, anything to wake him up from this unbearable stillness – but the night is quiet. The night haunts him with dead glassy eyes of his kinsmen and his brother's shrill sobs._

_Far off into the woods Itachi lets himself stop. His knees buckle. He presses his forehead against the dry bark of a tree and takes a deep breath. It's hard to breathe in the smothering thickness of all the forest smells._

_He takes his headband off and drops it on the ground. As it lies there in the dust, he can't seem to look away from it_.

* * *

Sasuke's sleep was turbulent, filled with phantasmagoric visions and twisted memories. Perhaps for him sleeping was more of a torment than being awake.

Itachi heard him mutter to himself sometimes, snap and argue like there was someone else near him. Perhaps his brother was hallucinating because of the drugs. Perhaps he was visited by ghosts. No matter what it was, Itachi never knew it. He had never had a single nightmare – as though the events of _that_ night made up their mind to leave him be.

His torture was constant silence. The quietness of that night multiplied by infinite numbers. He was alone, stuck in the silent terror, unable to break free, unable even to scream.

He wished they would come. He wished they would haunt him, accuse him, torment him. But it was like they approved. It was like they had given their consent the night he had murdered them.

He hadn't given them time to fight back. His every blow had been precise and well-aimed. He had said nothing. He hadn't spoken to them then, and now they wouldn't speak to him.

Itachi leaned forth and carefully brushed a sweaty strand of Sasuke's hair off the boy's cheek. His skin felt warm, but not the sizzling hot it was but a day ago. Good sign.

A surge of anger engulfed Itachi for a fraction of a second. He wanted seek out every single one of those 'doctors' and kill them slowly and painfully for doing this to Sasuke. Physical pain was nothing, a minor inconvenience that, he knew, didn't disturb Sasuke so much. The boy was patient and knew how to wait.

Emotional instability, on the other hand… Sasuke did not behave like himself and he hated it. Itachi knew well enough how terrible it was for Sasuke not to be in control of his words and actions.

But even though he was sick, Sasuke could still benefit from it. Itachi didn't want him to become a slave for silence like he had done. Perhaps his body and mind needed this powerful shock. Perhaps it could set Sasuke free.

Light-headed with dizziness, Itachi sat next to the sleeping youth, reluctant to wake him up. He loved it when Sasuke was unconscious. This way he didn't have to be cruel to him.


	4. I Can Has My Sanity Back Now?

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; no yaoi] Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Lyrics from _The Wizard of Oz_. I must confess Sasuke's list was inspired by the list of Things More Pleasant Than Nathan from _Come Together_ by Josie Lloyd and Emlyn Rees.

**A/N**: This is getting more and more like crack… Angsty crack! Why not? Thank you for your wonderful reviews, guys! Now that exams are killing me, you're really working wonders with me.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

_**I Can Has My Sanity Back Now?**_

_We're off to see the Wizard,_

_The wonderful Wizard of Oz!_

I started out my umpteenth morning with quite an enjoyable task: making up an organized list of things more pleasant than Itachi. Those included:

-nosebleed

-food poisoning

-sweets

-girls (noisy and loud ones fighting for something I was never willing to give a.k.a. my attention)

-the rest of the Akatsuki.

It didn't exactly make me feel good, but it prevented me from a general collapse into mind-melting paranoia.

Oh yes, today was the schizophrenia day! I kept looking around, expecting some random enemies to pop out of every bush (even if there was clearly no place to hide behind the said bush) and moreover, I was expecting Itachi to do something nasty. Suspicions chewed me up like a day old sandwich, so in order to give myself a break I kept working on the list.

Itachi was quiet (big surprise!), and we hadn't come across the infamous tree yet. Not even once. Perhaps we were finally walking in the right direction. It annoyed me. Not that I wanted to stay in this charming forest forever, mind you. But the thought of him being right as always was driving me out of my mind.

Yeah, like something these days wasn't.

I was on fire. Fire was creeping all over my body like an army of red ants, biting into my skin, licking over the bitemarks with its hot tongues and stinging me again and again. I was sick with a wild terror of dying, yet somehow completely indifferent to whether I would really live or die. I was terrified of the four walls that were waiting me back in the prison, but I couldn't care less if I was indeed one day going back there. Come to think of it, the entire world had become my prison cell.

And while I felt to broken, I forbade myself to dwell on it. The only way to ignore that sickness was to continue being insane.

The tapestry of silence thrown around us was suddenly slit through with the sound of music. I tilted my head and pricked up my ears.

No. It must have been a fancy.

I moved on like a marionette, the world around me pulsing with pencils of light shooting through the leafage. I hated it when it changed from darkness to light and back so abruptly. My eyes hurt. I had slept so long, yet I didn't feel rested.

The trill repeated, whistling like it was a wind instrument. I froze, unable to believe my ears.

"Okay, I'm officially off the rocker," I announced. That somehow sounded pretentious and vulgar at the same time. "I can hear music."

Itachi frowned.

"So can I."

His words surprised me, but I felt undeniably relieved. Three cheers for my sanity: it still had a future!

We crept cautiously through the bushes, parted them and saw a sunless clearing filled with people. To my almost-disappointment, they were neither spirits, nor fairytale troubadours, but regular shinobi in full uniform down to the forehead protectors which I recognized with mingled contempt and surprise as Oto's.

Whatever these lost children of Orochimaru were doing here was hardly our concern. Nevertheless, neither of us hastened to leave. I couldn't tell what Itachi was thinking, but, for my part, I was intrigued by their musical activities. Strictly speaking, that was none of my business either, but a few minutes before I had been firmly convinced there were no real musicians here. I thought I had a right to know what my would-be hallucinations were up to.

I figured it out soon enough. They were training. They formed two groups. Number one was armed with rough-looking bamboo flutes (oh, I knew how 'harmless' they could be!); number two carried kunai and other projectiles. By the referee's command, group number one began playing; their opponents rushed into attack.

The melody was beautiful even though someone would go off key time after time and play out of tune. Music streamed all over the clearing, smooth and light like a river of silk. They started with the basics, the melody that affected the senses, made blood boil and sped up the heart-rate, and did other 'nice' physical stuff that I always chose to avoid. Only Orochimaru could turn something as beautiful as music into a deadly weapon. Props for him.

The highest level would be a musical genjutsu, but I was sure the kids wouldn't go this far. Group number two resisted pretty well. A few of them winced now and then and panted heavier than expected; but all in all, they were okay.

Unlike Itachi.

My attention snapped back to him when I heard him utter a stifled groan. He was kneeling on the ground, fingers clutching at the grass so hard that his knuckles were white; bleeding from eyes and ears. I cursed, helped him up on his feet, slung his arm around my shoulders and dragged him as far from the clearing as I could, letting the music die down behind us.

Blood smeared Itachi's cheeks and neck. It looked like it was gleaming faintly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demanded.

I didn't know who I was more angry with: him for being such a ruin, or myself for helping him.

"Do you reckon the Sound has anything to do with this?" Itachi asked, wiping the blood off his face.

The creepy Inner Sasuke brought forth by drugs rejoiced. 'He wants to hear _my_ opinion!' But seeing as I was dead-set on denying his existence, my first _official_ thought was: 'This?' Then it dawned upon me: of course, _this_! The whole prison break affair and our charming adventures of a castaway.

I shrugged, sincerely confused. "They seem stranded. Do they even know the Sound is like… gone?"

Itachi shook his head thoughtfully. We were probably thinking the same thing at the moment: What. The. Hell?

"Orochimaru taught me those things," I felt like saying. "Taught how to shield myself from the sounds, too. But I wasn't doing anything now."

"Drugs," Itachi interrupted without even looking at me. Oh, that sure explained a lot! "Let's go."

I had just added a few more provisions to my Things More Pleasant Than Itachi list, and frankly speaking, it was becoming ridiculous. It included various unpleasant diseases, gruesome ways to die, bad jokes, chick flicks, snots (I was getting a bit childish), slavery and a broken TV-set. That last thing had really got me in a fix when I was four. In other words, I had broken the misfortunate telly and had been dreading mother's wrath – but it hadn't come. It was the last time I hadn't had to answer for my actions. After that I had always tried to be the man.

Someone had fixed the telly.

All these thoughts racing in my mind, I drifted off into a trancelike apathy and came out of it, having nearly bumped into a tree. I ended up annoyed, disappointed and triumphant all at once.

Because it was _that_ tree. Our lovely sakura with two trunks, raining its rosy blossoms down on our heads in some kind of darkish mockery that only soulless objects are capable of acting out. On the other hand, many religions attribute some kind of animation to plants and rocks and earth and nature in general, so who knows? Perhaps the tree was indeed mocking us.

"Huh!" I said. I intended it to sound taunting; it came out more like a remark of surprise instead.

Itachi peered at the tree intently. If I had been having a daily bout of my visions' attack, I could have sworn the tree peered back.

Itachi turned abruptly and took another road. I could only glower at the back of his head like everything was the said head's fault (and maybe it was!) as I followed him.

Behind us, the sakura's leaves rustled quietly. There was no wind. Why did I find it symbolic?

* * *

_There is a festiv__al in the Compound. Someone's birthday. Or maybe a wedding. I don't really care. I love it when they hold festivities here. The ones that storm all over the village are fun too, but what I get is mostly supporting noises because the children of the Compound are rarely allowed to join the celebration. Children, as grown-ups put it, have no business in the village before they start at the Academy – thus they remain isolated._

_Our parties are different. __They are close-knit (as far as a few full streets can make it), and we get candy. I've never been particularly fond of sweet stuff, but I know someone who is. And I collect a heap of candy and carry it with me, trying to find brother amidst the party-goers._

_I end up in our__ courtyard where slow, sentimental music is playing. The sound is distorted, alternating with the cracking noises the old record player is making. I look around curiously and spy a dancing couple. It seems peculiar that they are my parents._

_Mother looks beautiful in her dark-red kimono__. I've never seen her wear red even though I know she likes the colour. She laughs as father leans into her and whispers something in her ear. He holds her gently like she is fragile and precious to him; like I've never seen him hold anything or anyone. Her arms are wound around his neck._

_Away from the festival fuss I watch my parents dance to a half-forgotten tune, surrounded by clouds of white chrysanthemum. Feels like a dream._

_A hand lies on my shoulder. I shiver and drop my baggage._

"_Are you eavesdropping?"_

_I look up at my brother who has just materialized out of nowhere (I've got to hand it to him: he's a master of neat tricks) and force a feeble smile._

"_No. Just peeking."_

_Well, that's true: I can't hear a word they're saying!_

_Itachi grasps me by the collar__ and starts dragging me away, saying Mom and Dad deserve some privacy. I break free, sticking my tongue out at him, and jump a few metres back._

"_Sasuke, I am not playing with you," brother chides. He looks stern, but I can see him cracking up. Inspired, __I pick up the candy and cup it in my hands and hold it out to him. I'm well aware of how adorable I may be looking and I gladly take advantage of it._

_Itachi shakes his head and mouths, "Five minutes, no more."_

_Victorious, I leap back to my observation post. Itachi perches behind me like a watchful sentinel. His word is law: if he says five minutes, it will definitely be five minutes sharp._

_I glance back at him briefly. He is busy unwrapping a candy. The foil doesn't rustle. Itachi is the only person I know who can unwrap paper noiselessly._

"_Why does Dad never do this when we're around?" I whisper._

_He never hugs anyone: neither us, nor mother. Not if there is anyone to see him doing it, at least._

"_Sasuke," brother says gravely. "Father might seem cold and detached, but it doesn't mean anything. Some people have difficulty showing affection. Don't hold it against him."_

_The sweep taps gently over the stones of the garden.__ My cheeks flush. He makes it sound like I've been saying something bad about father. I would never… It's just that when I see other parents hug their kids, I can't help feeling just a tiny bit jealous._

'_Please don't hold it against me either.'_

"_Time's up!" Itachi whispers sinisterly in my ear. _

_Before I can protest, he grasps me around the waste, __hurls me across his shoulder and drags me away. I wave my hands comically, trying to get him to put me down. He is inexorable. I soon forget that I'm supposed to be offended, and I begin to laugh.

* * *

  
_

"What. The. Fuck!" I hissed listlessly as a heap of sweet-smelling, moist flower petals was flung straight into my face.

This had to be a joke! Yet it wasn't. We were standing before the very same tree that we had left less than an hour ago. I stared at it fixedly. The mere sight of it made my teeth ache.

STUPID SAKURA-TREE!!!

"Could it be that we keep bumping into it because you're blind and can't choose the damn right road?" I spat irritably.

Itachi shrugged. He looked indifferent, but he was just as puzzled as I was. Instead of waiting for him to make another ridiculous choice that would, doubtless, lead us back here, I flung myself on the ground beneath the spreading branches right in front of the spot where the two trunks fused and folded my arms across my chest, looking deadly serious. Itachi cocked an eyebrow at that.

"I'm not going anywhere until we have a plan," I felt munificent enough to explain. "Or at least a semblance of a strategy."

"That's gonna be a bit tough," a voice said, and it took me a while to realize it wasn't Itachi's voice. "I'd say bordering on the impossible."

I tilted my head up, and my eyes entrained into Naruto's electric, smiling eyes. Great! Just what I needed to make this day any better: the biggest moron on the planet giving me advice on plan-making.

"I love the colour," Naruto commented, catching a few falling petals. "Kind of reminds me of Sakura-chan."

Not that I had anything against her, but right now I could hardly have any warm feeling towards anything or anyone named 'sakura'.

"Don't tell me you're still chasing after her with your tongue hanging out," I grumbled.

Naruto burst out laughing. "Why? Jealous?"

I glowered at him, hoping my grimace made my intentions clear enough. If not, I was perfectly ready to voice them: GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HEAD! I wondered if he could read my mind. Technically, being part of it, he probably should be able to. On the other hand, I doubted I wanted him to.

I closed my eyes, indicating the conversation was over. I could stare him down or something, but it would be downright weird to try to establish my domination over an apparition. I had already done way too many 'downright weird' things during this quest.

Soon it would be over. Everything would be over. Including Naruto. I hadn't thought about my future yet, even though I had told Itachi I wanted to correct the mistakes of my past and all that jazz. I could never go back to Konoha. No, I seriously didn't think I could.

Presentiments of a dark future swept over me. As soon as we were out of this forest, I would finally take my revenge. I would complete the mission of the past nine years. And – then what? Could there be anything for me after the End?

"Yeah, sure, the End!" Naruto snickered. I had almost managed to forget he was here. Those were the most pleasant two minutes I had had for the past few days. "To live for the End. To live to die. Inspiring goal indeed. Dumbass!"

"Moron," I parried. "So what?"

"See?" he perked up. "We're perfect for each other! We make quite a pair." There was a momentary pause, and I desperately hoped he would shut up. Naturally, my hopes were in vain. "You should know, though," he said in a far more resolute voice, "that nothing will be over. Especially _Naruto_!"

I would ignore him, I thought. He might just shut up. (Hell, it was _him_, the big orange moron! Why would he shut up just because I wanted him to?) Perhaps if this voice that was part of my own subconsciousness said that nothing would be over, then… Naruto… No! I resisted the urge to flick myself on the forehead. I needed to get out of the wilds.

…No pun intended.

"Tell me something," Naruto said.

"I'm not going to have a conversation with myself," I said sternly. Either my words, or the way I phrased the thought caused him to laugh again.

"Who says it's you talking to yourself?"

"There's no one else here. Much less, you, idiot!"

"That's rich!" Naruto grinned. "What about him then?"

My attention snapped back to Itachi. He made no sign of having paid any heed to my one-sided dialogue, but he probably did think I was crazy. Now, the question was: should I or should I not give a damn about what he thought?

Naruto was already gone when I turned to him, which was fine with me because I was just about to repeat my proposition to 'get out of my head'. I balled my fists and forced myself to get up.

"I get to choose the road this time," I said categorically and went on without waiting for him to follow.

Things just had to be getting more complicated all the time, didn't they?

* * *

The road went downhill slantwise and ran along the river-bed. The slow and regular splashing of water evoked drowsiness. I tried to continue working on my list to keep myself from tumbling into the river (this time I was pretty sure it was real), but it turned out the provisions made me feel even sleepier.

I could hear music again. The soundtrack to some children's TV-programme which I vaguely remembered from childhood.

The grass around me was maroon. The sky and the river swapped their placed, so that when I looked up I would see ripples in the clouds, and if I looked downward, there was the sun beneath my feet.

I squatted on the riverbank and put my hand into the grass, palm up. Accompanied by the indistinct hissing, a small bright-green snake crept up to me warily. I brought it up to my face to take a better look at it. It dipped its fangs into the softness of my palm, and I dropped it with a short gasp.

Music grew louder.

I rose, barely able to tear my eyes off of my hand. There were still the river and the valley behind me, but they seemed like a landscape from a surrealistic painting. I was standing in a dark room, a TV-set in front of me. The screen was black, but I could still hear children's songs and laughter.

A boy was sitting close to the TV-set. If it had been on and if there had been a mother in the room, she would have scolded him for sitting so close. It made me smile. In my world there were far more dangerous ways to ruin your eyesight than watching TV.

"The telly was broken," the boy said, and I shuddered. I knew that voice!

He turned to face me, smiling reassuringly. I hadn't seen him for twelve years, not since I had last looked in the mirror that day.

"It's okay now," he said. "Brother fixed it."

The black screen burst into colour. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing in and out nervously.

"…fixed the telly," I murmured. Of course. Who else could it have been?

The world was fine again when I opened my eyes. Itachi touched my forehead carefully and said:

"You're running a temperature again."

He motioned for me to sit down, and I did. I felt dizzy, but fever wasn't the cause of it. It was finding out the things that had seemed important when I was four… or finding out I had always known the truth.

* * *

Itachi turned his back on me and walked slowly towards the river. I watched him lazily, trying to decide whether I was asleep or not. I was if I intended to avoid another heart-to-heart with Naruto (obnoxious as this insane apparition was, he never intruded into my dreams); I wasn't if… if I was mad, obviously.

Brother dipped his hands into the water and rinsed them briskly. His gaze slid thoughtfully over the gleaming surface, and slowly, he began to undress. As he entered the water, I perked up. Perhaps he'll drown.

He swam a few metres away from the bank and dove. I prowled towards the swaying wisps of reed and sat there, misty-eyed, observing the ripples. Itachi's head showed up above the surface, and vanished again. I recalled Suigetsu swimming. Every time Team Hebi passed by a river, he would take a dive. He was never actually seen bathing. To my knowledge, he dissolved in the water, much like he had done in Orochimaru's tank where I had first found him. It must have given him the taste of liberty so strong that I could never even imagine it.

Itachi headed back. I tensed involuntarily, but it was no use pretending I wasn't looking at him. He stopped at the shoal, swept his hands over his face, brushing aside his wet bangs. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen him like this.

A faded old scar crossed his back. I came up to him, unable to look away.

"How did you get that?"

"A greeting from a friendly shinobi during one of my first assignments as the Akatsuki."

I smirked. The idea of someone getting so close to actually hurting him – maybe even killing him – seemed peculiar. I brushed my fingers over the scar tentatively, taking in the texture of it, slightly rougher than the skin around it.

"He didn't live long enough to apologize," Itachi said, picking his shirt up.

I jerked my hand away and stepped back, suddenly flushed.

"How's water?"

Itachi turned to face me. Droplets, small and sparkling like glass beads, fell from his hair and trickled down his chest and disappeared in the heavily soaked fabric of his trousers.

"Warm."

_Enough__!_ I turned my back on him abruptly and hurried back to the campsite. Seeing him like this was a torture. He seemed alive, peaceful, different from the carefully constructed villainous image I had planted in my mind.

I hated him for doing this to me. Especially since he wasn't doing anything.

I paced around the campsite, feeling that if there was a cliff nearby, I would gladly jump off it. Alas, there were no cliffs. Only a river where I couldn't possibly drown because: a) Itachi was still there, and b) it was a ghastly death. I would rather pretend I was a bird than a fish.

I took a short walk in the nearby grove, spotted an apple-tree and plucked the fruits excitedly. They were small and tasted somewhat between bitter and sour. I munched down at least four of them before Itachi returned and was pretty sure it would give me stomach ache. They were too astringent.

"Are you all right?" Itachi asked me.

I glanced up at him, frowning. He took an apple and was now looking at it like it was an alien artifact.

"Shouldn't I be?"

"You seem strange."

I shrugged gloomily and reached for another apple. I was clearly suicidal today. Oh, it had been a tormentingly long day!

Itachi wrung his hair out, moved closer to the campfire and took a bite of his apple. It was getting dark. I watched him as he sat there, bathed in crimson glares of flame, and watched the sky change its colours: from scarlet and gold to starry dark-blue. He looked almost dreamy (if the likes of him could dream), his hair scattered over his shoulders and his strange, empty murrey eyes half-closed.

"I didn't like sunsets when I was little."

I cocked my head curiously. "Why?"

"They ended too soon. Then it was dark and I was afraid of it."

I couldn't believe it no matter how hard I tried. If I imagined brother being afraid of anything, it would destroy everything. It would destroy my faith in him.

What was I thinking!? I slammed my fist into the ground, accidentally pushing a log that was peeking out of the fire. Strong scent of cinders clogged my nostrils.

It would destroy _nothing_ because there hadn't been any _faith_ in a long time.

"It was before you were born," Itachi elaborated. "Kids are always scared of something."

"I didn't know you as a kid." I'd rather not think about it.

Itachi shrugged.

"Do you like them now?" I asked. "Sunsets."

"Yes."

"Because you aren't afraid anymore?"

"No." I thought I heard a strange inflection in his voice. Melancholy. Nostalgia. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. "But they are always different. I have never seen two similar sunsets. As for darkness…" He chuckled quietly. "I have never seen a bogeyman either."

"I have," I murmured and hastened to correct myself: "The sunsets. I have seen two similar ones." Strictly speaking, I have seen a bogeyman too: he was sitting right in front of me. "Back in Konoha, on cloudless days… I would watch them from the bridge. Their mood was the same."

"So it would seem…"

"No, it really was. Because I was in the same mood every day. When everything is the same inside, it is the same on the outside, too."

After a short pause, Itachi asked:

"Do you always feel the same?"

I lowered my head, perplexed. Who the hell forced me to talk?

"Not really. Not now, at least."

"You used to smile more," Itachi noted. Surprisingly, I didn't get angry at this remark. I thought I should, but I simply couldn't.

So I smiled. I grinned at him like I had grinned back then: innocently, artlessly, almost happily. With tears prickling in my eyes. It should have made my face muscles hurt: I hadn't done it in such a long time!

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Itachi's lips. I thought that for a moment I had really managed to forget who he was.

* * *

"So, what did we stop at?" Naruto rumbled in my ear.

I was already half-asleep when he showed up. His voice startled me. I told him to get lost as quietly as I could, considering I wanted to keep the menace in my tone clear. Itachi was asleep. I peered at him, trying to figure out if he was breathing at all.

"How do I know I'm not here?" Naruto persisted. "What if I invented an awesome jutsu that allows me to invade minds and talk to people's thoughts?"

"Invented? Stole from the Yamanaka clan, you mean."

"You might be asleep. Or I might be a part of you that activates when you're too fixated on your own sorrows."

"I am not asleep," I deadpanned. "And you're anything but a part of me."

I rolled to my side, hoping he would understand that I needed more sleep than I could get with him chattering in my ear. Unfortunately, he was right: I wasn't dreaming. Hallucinating – yes, but not dreaming.

"Who cares anyway!" Naruto exclaimed, leaning closer to me. I supposed saying 'I do,' would not make him change his mind. "I know I don't. Let's talk, Sasuke! Tell me something."

"Aren't you afraid to get stuck in my head for good?" I teased him. "It's not the most cheerful place to inhabit, you know."

"Nah, I feel great!" he waved dismissively. "Come on, let's talk! You know me, I can be very annoying. Instead of bickering, we could just have a normal conversation."

I chuckled grimly. He didn't have to talk to me to be annoying. It was enough for him to breathe.

"How do I know you'll still be alive tomorrow?" Naruto said. "And we'll never ever be able to talk. I won't be there to save you. The way to you is cut off. It always has been."

Naruto in his usual vein. I buried my face in my hands. My palms were chilly and unexpectedly dry.

"Sometimes I get this feeling," Naruto went on, "that you're closer than we all think. Maybe I could just reach out… But it's not true, is it? Even now, you're doing your best to drive me away."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It would have been ridiculous, my face still hidden in my hands and all, - but damn, if he was aiming to make me cry, he almost succeeded!

(That was sarcasm, by the way. At least, I was pretty sure it was.)

I studied his face through my spread fingers. His eyes grew wider, and the next thing I knew, there was no trace of bitterness in him anymore. On the contrary, he looked just as lively and mischievous as I remembered him.

"What do you say to a little adventure?" he asked.

I couldn't be less enthusiastic about it.

"C'mon!" he whined. "You can't just let yourself get weaker and weaker! You'll wither like that. A bit of thrill might even chase away your fever!"

"What do you suggest?" I asked sourly. At that, Naruto simply grinned.

That was about how I ended up crouching along the thorny rows of thick bushes toward the silent camp of the Otogakure ninja. I couldn't believe I managed to locate them in this deadly maze of a forest, seeing how much time Itachi and I always wasted on trying to find a road. It was a fine exercise in stealth, and so far I was doing absolutely great. So great that Naruto decided to make faces at me, but I wouldn't stoop so low as to actually laugh at that.

Well, I might have snickered once or twice, but no more than that.

The Sound nins were lying in the sleeping bags all over the clearing. In the dark, they looked like bundles of old rags. Not even a single one of them on watch. There were fifteen men. I imagined them all waking up at once to see me intruding. It would be fine with me; I used to take out more when I had trained under Orochimaru.

Their gentle silence soothed me. It was the kind of silence that muffles up a sleeper who is absolutely sure of his own safety. One would think they lay in their own beds behind locked doors.

I could do whatever I pleased to them. I was the danger coming from the wild which they knew nothing about. For all I cared, I could kill them all but one, wake the survivor up and force him to show me the way out of the forest.

"Hn," I said thoughtfully.

* * *

"You stole a flute?" Itachi asked in a voice slightly higher than usual.

I blinked and stared at the bamboo flute clutched in my hand, as if seeing it for the first time.

"Well… yeah."

"You _stole a flute_," brother repeated. This time it wasn't so much of a question.

'Stop looking at me like I'm kleptomaniac!'

"Are you mad at me because I _stole_ it or because I didn't steal anything more useful?" It slipped out before I could censor myself. Damn, I sounded like a naughty kid ashamed of himself. "Because if that's the case," I hastened to add, "I did take a blanket and some food."

I motioned at the bundle at my feet. Itachi's gaze passed over it deliberately and returned to me.

"I'm not mad you," he said quietly. I could swear he was puzzled.

That was… awkward.

(Hallucination or not, I would kill Naruto next time I saw him.)

We wound the camping up and moved further along the road that was supposed to get us closer to the way out. Twiddling the flute in my hand absent-mindedly, I mused on expanding my list of Things More Pleasant Than Itachi, and right now there was a huge dilemma before me: How did Naruto fit in? Was he 'more pleasant'? Or was he the absolute evil that even Itachi couldn't compete with? It seemed crazy to compare the guy who killed my entire family with the guy who… I didn't even know why Naruto bothered me so much. Why was I hallucinating him and no one else? Why wasn't I hallucinating my parents? Or Kakashi and Sakura? Did it mean something or was I just too far gone?

In the end I decided that Naruto held the same position as drugs on my list, so that made him–.

"Why would you steal an instrument you don't play?" Itachi interjected.

Having lost track of my thoughts, I was going to give him a piece of my mind about it, but the meaning of his words stopped me.

"Who says I don't play?" I pouted. He glanced at me curiously. "You didn't think these nine years were all about you, did you?"

He shrugged, and for some reason that simple motion annoyed me. Oh, come on! I wasn't _that_ obsessed! At least not until I came to Orochimaru.

"Then play," Itachi said.

"What, _now_?"

"Why not?"

In front of him? I wrinkled my forehead. Of all the weird things that happened here this one freaked me out the most. But I wasn't going to back down. Right now, I was _really_ happy the Naruto ghostie wasn't here to witness my further decent into madness.

I held the instrument to my lips. The sound came out a bit strange. A thought flashed in my mind: If I played the right melody, I could kill Itachi effortlessly right now. I remembered well how the Sound nins' training had affected him.

I collected my thoughts and began playing. The melody was rough, unpolished; I couldn't make up my mind about what I wanted to perform. Finally I chose an old festival tune they used to play in Konoha. It was neither sad nor particularly joyous, and I hadn't played since I left Konoha. My fingers were trembling slightly.

I wondered if he remembered it; and if he did, what memories it evoked. The endless chain of Konoha sunsets flashed before my mind's eye. Cloudless days. The icing of crimson and gold on the roof of the Nakano Temple. Sweat from the training session cooling off on my skin.

Itachi kept silent until I was done. He spared me an indefinite look and walked on without a word. I reckoned the music did get in his blood.


	5. Brother's Keeper

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; gen] Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Lyrics from _How To Destroy a Relationship_ by The Servant.

**A/N**: I haven't updated this since December… ouch! This chapter is full of weirdness and insanity. On Itachi's part, this time.

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_**Brother's Keeper**_

_Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde  
D__ance around in my insides.  
Don't you see I can't look in your eyes?  
I'm just scared you see the lies._

"Me – Sasuke, you – tree. So quit screwing with me and let me climb you!"

With a barely noticeable smile, Itachi tore a neat shred off an officinal leaf and chewed on it. It was supposed to make him feel better. Having witnessed the one-sided dialogue between his brother and the giant oak the youth had chosen for his chakra exercises more than a few times, Itachi could say for sure: the oak was quite a character. Had he been more of a gambler, he would have tried betting on the oak's victory.

"Shouldn't you be talking to your chakra?" Itachi teased mildly. "It's easier to convince."

Sasuke spun around and flashed him a glare of pure disdain. Little did he understand that in spite of all his attempts to keep his cool he still looked like a kid to Itachi. Perhaps he always would. A foolish brat who needed protection no matter how hard he strove to become stronger.

"My chakra is a traitorous bitch, it seems," Sasuke spat. "Inherited that from you, I suppose. Now get lost and let me train. I'm useless both to you and myself if I'm like this."

In confirmation of his intentions, he jumped up, trying to stick to the trunk. He failed to generate enough chakra in his feet and toppled over. Itachi couldn't hold back a snort. The innocent sound enraged Sasuke even more. The youth picked up a snag and tossed it at Itachi's head. He missed (more likely, unintentionally).

Itachi gave him half an hour. Sasuke was right about one thing: he had to become strong as fast as he could.

* * *

'_You say you're tired of routine, doing the same things every single day of your life, floating betw__een the shades of grey that are no different from each other. In truth, you are deceiving yourself. It's the routine that keeps us alive._

_Wake up. Open your eyes. Look at the ceiling of another cheap hotel, hanging low overhead. Sometimes__ it's so low that it seems if you sit up too abruptly, you'll bang your head against it._

_Get up. Go to the bathroom. Brush your teeth. Rinse. Wash the lingering drowsiness away._

_Get dressed. Brush your hair. Go downstairs to check on your partner to find him having already ordered breakfast for you. He knows you so well that he can practically feel when you awaken._

_Find a few hours of intermission between the two assignments and be glad you don't have to kill anyone. Or watch him kill. Go for a walk. Find a confectionary and spend the better part of the intermission there._

_Go back to the hotel, collect your partner and be off._

_Do your job._

_Check into another hotel. Have dinner. Watch the sunset. Pretend you're not watching the sunset. Pretending is foolish, but it's the only way you could ever let yourself do something foolish._

_Undress. Let your hair loose. Go to the bathroom. Brush your teeth. Rinse. __Go to bed. Lights out. Close your eyes. Get your three hours of sleep. Get up._

_Full circle._

_Routine is what keeps us going like a clock. The moment my circuits snap, I shall be gone.'

* * *

_

Itachi ventured deeper into the forest, going farther away from Sasuke's grumbling. He used to walk a lot. In fact, he took a timid, unspoken liking to those rare mission-free hours when he was free to do what he willed. Kisame wandered off as well; it was not because each other's company tired them, but because these 'intermissions' were their unique alone time.

On days like that Itachi would garb himself into a plain black cloak and wore no headband so that nothing about his appearance could betray a shinobi. They passed through many different towns due to work, some of them so insignificant they had no place on a map. Itachi found quiet pleasure in roaming their peaceful streets, drinking their clear air like nectar, and observing the particulars nobody else cared to pay attention at.

Walking through the woods now, he remembered a small fishing town on the indented coastline of the Fire Country. Its narrow streets meandered whimsically; he lost his way once or twice. The block pavement itself, half-frayed and lined with traces of wheels, reeked faintly with the metallic scent of fish. If he closed his eyes he was sure to feel like he was standing at the bottom of an ocean. It was not a bad feeling; he could finally relax.

He had no particular destination, or so it seemed. In reality he knew exactly where he ought to be heading. An enormous signboard painted in rainbow colours and swaying lightly in the strengthening wind allured him. It was an old-fashioned board of simple craftsmanship, its only advantage being its size. Itachi liked these above all others.

The shop the entrance to which was located beneath the signboard was old and inconspicuous. It sat close to the quay, overlooking the sea. It was almost empty at this hour. A small bell jingled quietly as Itachi pushed the door open.

Confectionaries had always held uncanny fascination for him. He could spend hours just staring at the luminous containers filled with multi-coloured candy. It felt safe. It took him back to the days when he had something to fill his life with. Something other than murder and sorrow.

A girl at the counter smiled at him and asked him if he had made his choice yet. He told her he was just looking. He was always 'just looking'. Sometimes he would buy a dango, but most of the time he just looked and was off. Sasuke never liked sweets. Every time Itachi made it to the candy shop he found himself thinking of Sasuke, the only kid he knew who wasn't all flustered up at the sight of sweets.

The memories were difficult to manage.

Itachi had succeeded in putting a wall between them and himself. He learnt to regard them as a simple observer, distant and uninterested, but every once in a while some pain would seep through. Things like this triggered it. But he never ran away from that pain; it showed him that he was still human.

He left without buying anything, but he did like the shop. It was cozy; he could stay there for a long time like some people could sit in a library, breathing in the old books' dust.

He remembered that small fishing town now, standing in the whispering wilderness of the forest maze, because that town, just like this forest, had seemed different to him. Enchanted. He remembered the people he had seen there: an old beggar woman that had caused slight revulsion (the way she whined and wailed he would have never bought any of this), the candy shop salesgirl, an old man at the seafront with a tangled fishing net, a pregnant woman… People had always been the worst of it. Doing the Akatsuki job in a world without people would have been so much simpler.

Itachi felt a lump coming up to his mouth. His throat constricted. He lapsed into a fit of coughing, blood pooling behind his clenched jaws. He fell on his knees, overwhelmed by the rustling of grass around him. Too noisy, too rough. He could almost hear something whispering amidst it. Once again, he found himself longing for the ghosts to reveal themselves. In this genjutsu-wrapped forest everything was different; why couldn't he be different?

He willed himself to rise and dragged his feet back to the clearing. Sasuke should have already finished his practice.

Itachi could barely see anything at all past the crimson mist that covered his eyes. The disease had taken its toll once more; he couldn't but wonder how much time he had left.

"Sasuke."

"Over here," the answer came.

Itachi tilted his head backwards. So he made it to the top then. Good for him. Itachi blinked several times, trying to clear his field of vision, and said in a steadier voice:

"We need to go. Get down."

"I'll catch up with you later."

"Out of question. We don't separate. Come on, get down here."

Sasuke remained stubbornly quiet. Gathering his own chakra under the best control he could afford, Itachi made it up the tree and ended up on the same thick branch Sasuke occupied.

"I have a little accident here," Sasuke said, embarrassed. "I can't move my foot."

Itachi frowned. He had never seen chakra act like that, but clearly Sasuke's chakra control was still very poor. He was sitting on the branch, knees pulled up to his chin, and couldn't force his feet to move because one of them got glued to the spot. Itachi might have laughed at the situation if it wasn't so pathetic.

He placed his hand on Sasuke's ankle and tried to push his foot aside, if only a little. The youth shivered, not expecting the touch.

"Hands off," he muttered, but there was no anger in his tone, only infinite weariness. Itachi complied wordlessly.

They sat quietly, not looking at each other, each one thinking their own thoughts.

"How old were you when you mastered chakra control?" Itachi asked a little later.

"Twelve. It was our first genin mission."

It was clear from his tone that Sasuke found it an uncomfortable topic to discuss, particularly with Itachi. The status of a prodigy, shared by both of them, yet so different for each of them, weighed down on them heavily.

"Try to relax," Itachi said. "We need to keep going."

"And go where?" Sasuke let out a sharp laugh. "The goddamn tree won't let us go! Every way we turn, it's there. I don't even know what this means."

"Neither do I. We might as well try to figure it out."

"I don't know what anything of this means!" Sasuke continued, having paid no attention to Itachi's remark. There was a hysterical edge to his voice now. "I keep seeing things and hearing things and I don't even know whether it's just me or–. I see him. Naruto. Of all the people! Just talking, talking like he always does… It's unbearable."

"Aren't you curious?" Itachi asked softly. "To know what's going on in the village."

Sasuke shook his head slowly.

"To a certain extent. What matters is that I've almost achieved my goal." His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "Life made me so selfish."

Itachi chuckled. He remembered Naruto all of a sudden, so bright, so certain that all the evil in this world could be set right if one believed.

"That Nine-Tails kid… He's a funny thing."

"What do you mean?"

Itachi cocked his head and reminded himself he had to keep the mask on. For everyone's sake.

"He just won't die."

"That's right." Sasuke looked suddenly serious. "You can't kill him just like that. More likely, it's you who'll be extinct by the time he gives in."

"I wouldn't be surprised, what with you two rushing to each other's aid all the time."

"I do not rush to his aid!" Sasuke hissed.

Itachi wondered what it felt like to distance yourself from someone you hold so dear. He had distanced himself from Sasuke once, had led his brother believe he was the worst of his nightmares come to life; but it was for Sasuke's sake.

"Heh. That time at the inn it seemed to me–."

"I came there after you."

"Knowing it was suicide at your current level?"

Sasuke narrowed his eyes contemptuously.

"Are you trying to fuck with my mind? Sorry, someone's already done it. Wait in the line."

He shifted and, having failed to balance his weight properly, began sinking. Itachi lunged forth and grasped him by the hand.

"What do you want with me, Sasuke?" he asked quietly.

"I want my life back," the answer was.

With that, the youth pulled his hand out of Itachi's grasp and turned a somersault in the air and landed on the ground. Itachi chuckled quietly. Poseur.

* * *

_She is in her mid-twenties, not especially beautiful but pleasant to the eye__, taking into account her tousled hair, her feverish eyes and the fact that she is no less than eight months gone. In a perfect world she would stay in bed while her kin ran on errands and her loving husband held her hand, waiting for the waters to break._

_No world is perfect, however._

_S__he stumbles and drops the grocery bag she is carrying. He catches it before it falls. It is almost a storybook scene._

_His gaze passes over the bag, habitually processing its contents. Cabbage, some tomatoes, lots of greens. The entire bag is green on the inside like a forest. The glistening skins of tomatoes shoot through it in red stains._

_The woman is well on her way now. All Itachi can do is follow her; doubtless she assumes he will carry her things.__ It's better this way: he was reluctant to offer help because she looked too stately to accept it, yet he would prefer not to leave it to her to carry the heavy, uncomfortable grocery bag. Awkwardness creeps over him as he walks after her silently._

_There is a greengrocery opposite her house__, she tells him nonchalantly. But she feels that she needs some activity; sitting at home and doing nothing will kill her._

_First time in this town? she asks. It's a godforsaken pit, but a worthy sight in spring._

_He can only nod. He has never seen it in spring and he probably never will. He has never met such a peculiar woman._

_She stops in front of a homely building covered in messy scales of faded green paint._

_(_Green again_, he thinks, and recalls the common connotations of it. _Youth. Growth. Hope._ He thinks of Sasuke. _Spring_. He would like to see this town in spring. _Envy.

_It's always about the people.)_

_Itachi casts a quick glance across the road. This is the greengrocery the woman has mentioned before, and there is her house._

_She takes a seat on a small stone bench just outside the store. (Come to think of it, the gown she's wearing is greenish too.) Sunbeams spray her skin generously. She squints like a cat and a small smile crosses her lips._

"_How old are you, sweetheart?"_

_Sweetheart! No one's called him that in a long time, if ever. Not even mother._

"_Seventeen," Itachi replies._

"_Birthday?"_

_He hesitates. "June."_

"_Honeysuckle__ and roses," she chuckles. "Wouldn't have pegged you for a summer person. How old do you think I am?"_

"_Twenty-five." There's not a hint of doubt in his voice._

"_Twenty-six, but thank you."_

_She's laughing at him._

_(Roses in June, indeed. One of the old ladies in the Compound had a lush rose garden. They would creep between the thorny stems, Shisui-senpai and him, and hide there when he was little._

_And honeysuckle. Those fragrant shrubs that filled one of the abandoned orchards on the way to the drugstore. Mother seemed to like those flowers.)_

_It strikes Itachi that he is still on his feet, clutching the 'green' bag. He lowers himself on the bench, placing the bag between the two of them._

_A lighter buzzes._

"_Smoke?"_

_Itachi glances__ at the flickering flame at the top of the lighter and answers automatically, "No, thanks."_

"_Not gonna lecture me?"_

"_It's none of my business."_

"_Right. You ever tried?"_

_(Shisui __gave him a cigarette once. Mikoto would have had his head for this; but then, she had always thought Itachi to be more of a child than he really was. All mothers do. He found it disgusting anyway. So did Shisui, actually, and they formally decided not to try and ruin their lungs ever again.)_

"_Once."_

"_Good boy. It's bad for you. Makes your teeth yellow."_

_He thinks that smoking will give you more troubles than yellow teeth: asthma, cancer and everything to go with it. But for some reason he refrains from commenting on the matter._

_She places her hand atop her belly, a barely registerable, instinctive movement. He recalls seeing his mother do the same when she was carrying Sasuke._

"_There's one thing I never want my child to be in the world," the woman utters, looking away in no particular direction. "A shinobi."_

_Itachi studies her profile__, obscured slightly by the fair bangs. She looks younger, and suddenly very tired. He gets her point: this world is a terrible enough place to bring a child into–_

_(He thinks about the things he had to do to Sasuke. It would have been easier if he had never had a brother.)_

–_but a child who is destined to grow up to be a person who would have to make impossible choices is ill-fated from the start._

_Itachi __shuts his eyes and catches the sound of waves in the distance and the warmth of the sun-kissed stone beneath his open palm. The wind brushes against the grocery bag and it rustles softly._

_(He would not have survived a day without Sasuke.)

* * *

_

Itachi couldn't say for sure how many days had passed since they ventured into the forest maze. At times it seemed the battle that had led to their imprisonment had only happened the day before. Their halts were frequent; debility was taking over Sasuke's body time and again. Days blurred into one, leaving Itachi questioning the possibility of ever getting out of the forest.

The tree, he told himself. The tree had something to do with it.

"I don't get it, you know," Sasuke noted, interrupting his train of thought. "If I were you, I'd run as far as I could. To the edge of the world. Why didn't you? Why did you choose to fight me?"

"You flatter yourself, little brother," Itachi scoffed. "I'm not afraid of you. Besides, there is something I need from you."

Sasuke let out a harsh laugh.

"My eyes. Please. You don't expect me to buy it, do you? You had plenty of opportunities to get them already."

Itachi leaned back until his spine rested against soft, damp bark. It hadn't rained, but the entire forest was permeated with heady post-rain scents.

"I've been there," he heard himself saying. Sasuke squinted, seemingly interested. "I've been farther than you could ever imagine. The world is the same everywhere you go, be it within the Five Shinobi Countries or not."

"Do you remember the people you killed?" Sasuke asked. To a stranger the question would have seemed sudden and misplaced; it drew but a smile out of Itachi.

"I don't complain of feeble memory. Sleep, Sasuke."

He was grateful that his brother chose not to pursue the matter for once. Sasuke rolled to his side, his back on Itachi, and was soon asleep. These words, 'Sleep, Sasuke,' – how many times had Itachi said them before? His memory jumped back to the old days, the lost days of childhood when he would sit by Sasuke's bedside and tell him stories. Not a word of them had been true.

Itachi slipped into his own dream soon enough. Out of darkness, a flicker of light was born. He walked along a tunnel, his footsteps booming in the quiet. It didn't take him long to realize he was not alone.

"Please, don't make me do this," a strained voice whispered.

Itachi looked back over his shoulder. He saw a boy in the ANBU uniform, the headband of Konoha glistening over his forehead. The boy looked up. His eyes were red, the familiar Mangekyou Sharingan seals brewing in each iris.

"I just wanted to… to help everyone. I wanted to stop the war."

"And you did," Itachi whispered. It was a poor consolation.

The boy looked up with new intensity. His lips were sickly white; his voice came out breathless.

"Please. Please help me. Don't make me do this. You know where it ends."

In death. In blood. The first time he killed a kinsman it was ridiculously easy. And it brought him these eyes that looked upon him from the face of his thirteen-year-old self.

Itachi touched the boy's shoulder.

"I had no choice."

"There's always a choice!"

He used to believe that before they summoned him and told him it was his duty to slay the entire Uchiha clan.

"They won't talk to me," the younger Itachi said bitterly. "No matter what I do I can't get them to talk to me. They just stand there, watching."

He clasped Itachi's hand and made him follow as he sped further along the tunnel. 'They', those he spoke of, were waiting at the end of it. Itachi smiled. His ghosts. His silent accusers. Mother, her beatific face devoid of emotion; father, a heavy grimace of disdain tugging at the corners of his mouth; Shisui, smiling as always, but there was nothing behind that smile.

Oh, how they must have hated him!

The ghosts met Itachi's gaze impassively. After a while they turned their backs on him and began walking away. The grip on his hand tightened.

"I can't join them," the boy said. "They won't have me."

"Go," Itachi urged him. "I killed you too."

The boy laughed. The sound was harsh and unexpected.

"I don't think I ever existed. You said it yourself: we had no choice."

Eyes wide open in terror, Itachi woke up.

* * *

Little by little, he willed himself to breathe. Heart thumping in his chest, he tried to reconnect with reality by scraping his fingertips over the tree trunk – but it felt almost non-existent under his touch. His mind was racing. Sasuke, awakened, was watching him suspiciously.

"What did you see?" he asked in a low voice.

Itachi struggled to collect his thoughts. A nightmare… He had a _nightmare_! Never in his lifetime did he have dreams quite so vivid and disturbing. He could almost feel his hand hurt because of his younger self's strong grasp.

Sasuke repeated his question.

"Nothing," Itachi muttered, his mouth dry. He got on his feet, shaking; a moment later Sasuke was near him.

"What was it that you saw?" he pressed. "Tell me. Mom and Dad? Can you finally feel guilt?"

He brought his face closer, eyes burning with an almost sinister glint. Itachi looked away.

"Shisui."

He picked the name because the presence of his senpai surprised him: Shisui hadn't died that day. He had been dead for quite a while back then. But guilt was overwhelming in this case: without Shisui, Itachi wouldn't have obtained his most lethal weapon. Shisui would have despised him for it.

"And how does it feel to have eyes soaked in the blood of your friend?" Sasuke scorned. "Maybe you're still human, _nii-san_."

'I'm sorry, Sasuke. I can't tell you the truth.'

Itachi's hand shot forth, his fingers clenching around Sasuke's throat. The youth wheezed, unprepared, as Itachi pushed him against the tree.

"You're still alive only because I want you to be, little brother," he spat. "Remember that and try to show some gratitude!"

He let Sasuke go, lip curling in feigned disgust, and strolled towards the path, indicating the halt was over. He couldn't bring himself to look back on the quivering mass Sasuke had been reduced to. It was three years ago, that small inn and the Tsukuyomi coma all over again.

Itachi hated himself.


	6. A Welcome Arrow Through The Heart

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; gen] Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Chapter title from _You're All That I Have_ by Snow Patrol. Lyrics from _Take Me Home_ by Thea Gilmore. Quotes from Naruto Chapter 225.

**A/N**: Thank you for you wonderful reviews, darlings! 3 They're so heartwarming! *hugs* By the way, I know some of you want to know what's going to happen when the brothers leave the forest. I'm sorry to disappoint you or to have given you the wrong impression, but the story revolves around their journey through the forest. When they leave, it ends. I know this story doesn't have much action, but that's the way I wanted it to be. It's a bit different from what I normally write in multi-chapters, but then, I like experimenting.

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_**A Welcome Arrow Through The Heart**_

_I'm older now and braver,  
The wise imitator;  
You don't know yet but you're gonna  
Take me home._

I don't get him. Seriously, I don't get what's in his head. He's like the very definition of bipolar! One minute he's this perfect big brother, then it's all one hell of a lie, then he's doing it again just to remind me that I owe him for screwing up my future.

I sighed. Look who's talking. Like I'm the paragon of normality.

We were walking on in with particular destination, having passed by the damned tree at least three times in the past few hours. Itachi wouldn't talk to me, which at any other time I would have been grateful for. Not talking to him had been great – but on my terms. He had made it clear the game was still very much his own, and this was yet another mean way to prove it. I felt that I was a dog waiting for a bone.

Pathetic.

I needed a reason to make him talk to me. Of course! Preferably something that wouldn't make him poke me in the forehead and get off with "Later, Sasuke."

Time to make a new list. Things I Could Discuss With Itachi Without Betraying My Desire To Talk To Him. That would include:

- Our point of destination. Silly idea because last time I checked that would be afterlife for Itachi and hell knows what for me.

- The weather. Erm… I pretended I hadn't thought of that.

(We seemed to have run out of topics already. Considering I hadn't even started yet.)

I rubbed my eyes wearily. The night had been rough and it was beginning to affect me. Naruto would be thrilled seeing me fall to pieces like that.

I caught up with Itachi decidedly and walked as close to him as I could. He didn't even spare me a glance. As far as I could tell, he was too engrossed in his thoughts to mind my presence.

What could a murderer be thinking about? His victims? His sins? I remembered his face when he mentioned Shisui-san. His face _then_, his face _now_. I looked at Itachi like he was a ghost. That man, my brother. My tormentor. My nightmare and my goal. Something Naruto (hell, even _I_) could laugh about too: I was beginning to wonder if I should really kill him. Perhaps leaving him alive would make him suffer even more.

No.

No. Fuck no!

I shook my head. If we ever get out of the bloody forest, my blade would not hesitate. (Funny that: I had _lost_ my blade!)

"So," I said, feeling like a total moron, "that Madara guy. What's he like?"

"You won't like him. Why?"

"I told you: he is my next target."

We'd had this conversation before. He chuckled now, as though reminding me about it.

"Could it be him?" I waved my hand indefinitely, referring to the woods around us.

"Madara? Unlikely. Not his MO." Itachi blinked a few times, letting his eyes rest. I still couldn't figure out how he could walk so confidently, being blind or at least dangerously close to it. "If I didn't know better, I'd suspect your friend Orochimaru. He's the scientist, after all."

He emphasized the word 'scientist' like it was an insult. I recalled they'd had a history, my brother and my misfortunate sensei. I wanted to ask Itachi about it, suddenly greedy for more details of everything that involved my family, but it wasn't the time.

I thought about Orochimaru, sliced into pieces and divided among his followers. I used to have one in me; Itachi had carved it out. For a moment, my thoughts dwelled on Kabuto. He was smart and treacherous; I didn't doubt he'd pick something up when I showed him what had become of his beloved master. That snake would never truly die. The ways which Orochimaru reached immortality were despicable but failproof. I didn't doubt I'd meet him again one day.

"Didn't it occur to you," Itachi asked, "that it could be someone we hadn't met before?"

Someone new. I stumbled and reiterated with all the venom in my voice that I could muster:

"Thank you, oh brother of mine! That's exactly the good news I was hoping for."

We carried on in silence. The conversation left me cold and shaking and even more confused. I tried – hell is my witness, I _tried_ to understand him. I had never done it before. When I was a child I used to look at the starry sky before going to bed and pray that when I woke up the whole massacre would be but a dream. My parents would be alive, Aunty would smile at me and cheer me up on my way to the Academy, and my brother would come back to me. As I grew older I thought I'd learnt to see through the deception of my dreams: nothing would ever be the same, no one would come back. Yet here, in the aftermath of the battle that, as I'd hoped, should have been my final, I saw the ghost of the Itachi I used to love. It was painful. It was tragically realistic.

I couldn't bear to see him stuck between his two star parts: the hero and the villain. I would forgive and accept the hero. I would slaughter the villain. But I couldn't have them both not even knowing which one was real.

So I tried to assess him. Tried and failed.

Something lashed out at my cheek, snapping me back to reality. I swallowed an 'ouch!' and looked up at the bloody expected sakura-tree that was raining its rosy petals down on me in the habitual stillness. I wrapped my fingers around the branch that had hit me and clenched my fist. I bent and pulled before I heard a characteristic crunch. It was so easy to break something beautiful and precious.

I withdrew my hand. The blossoms quivered gently as the branch they were attached to came away in my grasp. I stared at it, wondering if what I had done was terrible or forgivable. What was that tree? Why couldn't we escape it?

I threw the broken branch on the ground and hastened to leave that place.

When we passed it a while later, I felt the same burning sensation on my cheek after receiving another blow.

"It's grown back," Itachi murmured, surprised and amused at the same time. I hated that tone of his.

"Too bad you can't say that about our family," I muttered, rubbing my cheek. All the venom inside me desperately strove to break loose. "Why am I alive?" I asked coldly. Itachi deigned me no answer and I continued: "To measure your capacity? To grow stronger? To surpass you? _Why?_ For your pleasure or out of your guilt?"

Silence. I clenched my fists. I couldn't stand his bloody silence!

"Or is it that you're just a coward, _nii-san_?"

He turned to me, those empty vermilion eyes of his fixed upon me.

"How is that cowardice not to kill a foolish useless seven-year-old?" His voice was laced with the same venom as mine. I wondered how much of what we felt was the same. But no. What would he know of resentment and betrayal that had haunted me for years?

I scowled at his question.

"Oh, but you killed everyone else. Or did you? Was it really just Mom and Dad and Shisui-san? Did Madara finish off everyone else?" My chest was tight. "Admit it, you're a fucking coward! Why am I alive, Itachi? Why _me_? What did I ever do to you!?"

"Are you trying to make me angry? In my book, last night was enough."

I couldn't stop. Not now.

"Tell me truth!" I shouted. "Don't feed me that crap about the eyes! I deserve the truth!"

In a blink of an eye, he was in front of me. His hand shot forth; I felt a light stroke into my solar plexus. My chest exploded with searing pain.

Brother's voice hadn't change one bit when he said:

"Shut up unless you want me to kill you now."

He left me behind, gasping for air, much like he always did. I shut my eyes and slowly, steadily began to count. I did that a lot when I was little. Just count until you lose your train of thought. And hope to wake up.

* * *

_I'm making a mess of my tomatoes. Never had any problems with my appetite, but I just don't feel particularly hungry today. Brother promised to train me, but his promises can't really be trusted. _

_The atmosphere at home is tense. Father and brother don't talk, Mom seems to be engrossed in her own ruminations. Brother must be still under surveillance because of what happened to Shisui-san._

_I remember him. Cocky, straightforward, always smiling. I don't know if Itachi even attended his funeral. Why do they suspect him? Of course he's changed, but working with ANBU will do that to you. _

_The truth is I might be a little afraid of him now._

_The water in the sink gurgles noisily. I look at Mom who's washing the dishes, distant and pensive as always. I'm glad Dad's not here. _

_A plate slips out of Mom's hand and begins falling on the floor. I spring up nervously. No smashing sound follows. Itachi is standing with his hand stretched forth, having caught the plate._

"_Do you want help, Mom?" I ask. Sometimes she harnesses us for housework if she sees we're not terribly busy with the ninja stuff. Well, me at least. Itachi's got a free pass since he joined ANBU._

_Mother looks at me briefly. She seems so tired. It astonishes me. I draw closer, and she squats, pulling both me and Itachi into a hug. She ruffles our hair and smiles. I can't shake off the feeling the smile is fake. Like something she is obligated to show us._

"_I know it's been hard for you," she says__. "I just want you to know that no matter what your father says or does he will always love you both. And so will I." Her fingers rub circles on my shoulders. The pressure is a little too heavy. "And you two should always stick together. You're brothers. It's a bond no one can ever break. Do you understand?"_

_I glance at Itachi, trying to figure out__ what he is thinking. Now my entire family scares me._

"_Y-yes, Mom," I say in a small voice._

"_Yes, Mother," Itachi echoes impassively._

_She says, "Good," and kisses his forehead and my crown and tells us to get going. Itachi leaves the kitchen with resolute step. I trot after him and tug at his sleeve cautiously._

"_What's all this about, __nii-san__? Are we okay?"_

_He lowers his head, and I remember that __ominous new Sharingan I'd seen in his eyes once._

"_Everything is fine, Sasuke. Don't give it another thought."

* * *

_

Oh, but I did. I thought about it every second. I had driven myself insane, mulling over every single detail of my childhood and that night. And I still hadn't figured anything out.

I could feel the effect of the drugs wearing off. Finally. I should be happy. But I was beginning to grow accustomed to the explosive cocktail of emotions within me.

"You'll miss it like hell," Naruto commented. "Makes things loads easier when you don't have to maintain control all the time."

I didn't think so. I wanted my old reasonable, level-headed self back. The drugs made me feel like I was that lost child again; the pain was too much to bear.

I looked at him for a long-drawn-out moment. His profile stood out against the velveteen twilight, hair scattered messily over the forehead. His headband was dangling loose around his neck.

"I'm glad you're here," I whispered. I actually meant it. I realized with a start that it was me speaking, not the drugs.

"You should be," he stated, not looking at me.

I held out my hand, fingers hovering over his shoulder. I could not touch him, would not even try for fear of seeing my hand come through him. But this pseudo-touch gave me an illusion that I desperately needed.

"I don't know what to feel," I confessed. "What to think. About him, about you. I wish I could hate you, both of you. It'd make things so much simpler. But he's worming his way back into my heart. And you… you never left."

One more thing he and Itachi had in common: I couldn't figure Naruto out either. Sure we had something in common. Loneliness, for example. But I was not the type to make friends (even when I was little and extra-communicable). Even if I were I would never have picked that obnoxious hyperactive idiot to be my friend.

Yet somehow he did become close to me. He claimed to understand me; perhaps on some level he really could. He ran after me in the end. He refused to give up.

"Why do you want me back?" I whispered. It seemed inconceivable, almost paradoxical: someone _wanted me back_. Needed me. Even I didn't need myself anymore.

Naruto's voice was quiet like the rustling of leaves in the breeze, like it had never been for real.

"I think you know why."

I flinched at the ineradicable sadness. After all, if you ripped the orange-yellow-black exterior, it was only me. My subconsciousness. My will to dress my thoughts in this form. I needed someone I could believe in. In Naruto, with all his annoying determination, I had always believed. I believed his promise to bring me back even as I ran farther and farther away from him.

"I can't promise you anything," I said.

He nodded with a condescending smile. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was growing weary of me.

"Walk with me," he said quietly.

It was my turn to nod. He seemed distant, uncharacteristically detached. My drugs were fading; so was he.

I rose and looked around. I didn't know at which point Itachi had left. His wandering off alone into the woods didn't surprise me much. I had my secrets, he had his. That odd disease of his, for example. Did he really think I wasn't paying attention?

Naruto and I walked silently side by side, unspoken understanding forged between us. If I came back, the real Naruto would most likely make a scene. He'd punch me and yell at me and call me names. Maybe even hug me. He might come to accept me later. Forgive me. Sakura too. Kakashi would know better than to trust me straight away, but I supposed I could count on him too. In a way.

(Why am I even considering this?)

I wanted to yell at myself to wake up. No future lay outside this forest. No future for me or for Itachi.

I didn't know how long we walked. I came to a halt upon seeing a great stone wall rising in front of me. The prison! Somehow after days of running, we made it back here. And it prompted me to start the most reckless enterprise of the past few weeks: instead of turning my back and running as fast as I could I began looking for a way to get in. Something like a ventilation enclosure would work for me.

"Awesome," Naruto piped in. "Gotta love those narrow passages where the prospect of getting stuck becomes reality." I smirked at that. He had more to say. "You'll have to bear with me for the rest of your life. The end will come swiftly, I guess. Bu-ut it's gonna be fun!"

No doubt about that. With him by my side, at the very least.

I crawled along the fence and found the spot where the main building bordered upon it. There was a small breach, half-hidden in the grass. I wondered if I could possibly fit in there.

"Don't look at me," Naruto shrugged. "I'm incorporeal."

Why, thank you very much! Show-off. I clenched my teeth and eased myself into the hole. Would have been much easier if I were a snake.

"Boy, I'm sick of this place," Naruto grumbled. That, I could certainly relate to.

I crawled forth. A little further down the road the tunnel widened and filled with waste. I held my breath and went on, my elbows sinking deeper into the smelly slush.

Naruto's voice came somewhere from behind. If he were real, he would undoubtedly be creeping after me.

"Do you even know where this ends?"

"I'll figure it out," I said and added mentally: If I don't get caught. It was kind of silly to hide things from him by _thinking_ them: for all I knew, he heard every thought of mine.

Okay, overthinking things again. I should stop.

I pricked up my ears. The dripping sound of water reached me briefly. Footsteps. Muffled voices.

I reached the other side eventually. To my satisfaction, the tunnel led me straight into the building. I just hoped they kept the confiscated possessions here. Lurking in the shadows, I moved along the corridor cautiously. Every once in a while a warden would pass by and I would freeze, hoping the darkness would conceal me. Now that I was in there was little to be afraid of. The trick was to get back out.

I found the lodging I was looking for eventually. It took a while, more than I was willing to spare, but I slipped inside it and went on skimming through the tags with names and numbers. My clothes had been completely ruined. I picked a pair of clean trousers, a shirt of some dull earthy colour and a traveling cloak. There were sacks in another locker. I stuffed all the clothes into one of the sacks and ventured on to look for weapons. Kunai, shuriken, a skein of fishing line, some weird-looking curved knife, a saber… I clenched my teeth in frustration. What the hell had they done to _my_ sword?

I tensed suddenly, sensing someone's presence. I could hear no footsteps. Did that mean the approaching person knew I was here?

I darted into the niche between two lockers, holding a kunai in each hand. Naruto remained in plain sight, leaning against the table. I took my eyes off of him and focused on the enemy. It hit me then that what I felt was most likely his chakra. My abilities were coming back to me.

He was in.

We made a move simultaneously and froze, holding a kunai at each other's throats. I let the tension seep away, let out a small sigh and lowered the weapon.

Itachi.

Just Itachi.

Naruto had vanished somewhere along the way. I blinked forcefully and opened my mouth to speak, but Itachi made a sign to keep quiet and I complied. I had always been merely his follower.

He withdrew his other hand that he was holding underneath his cloak and handed me the Kusanagi. Something inside me that lay coiled like a spring snapped loose. I took the sword, attached the sheath at my back and said nothing. But my torturous ghost was back: my brother took care of me once again. I resented it, I hated it; yet it made me happy.

I collected my new belongings and we left the storeroom. I gave little thought to where we were heading. Somehow Itachi seemed to have found a cleaner passage. I didn't mind, feeling no particular desire to dive into the waste again.

Unfortunately, the way lay past the kitchen. The smell of cooking food reached me and my stomach clenched at that. I was hungry. The fish and the herbs from the forest had an odd taste. I was hungry for something less likely to give me food poisoning or a new addiction.

I peeked into the kitchen. All clear. Fantastic. Here we go.

Itachi glanced at me and shook his head. _No_.

'Sorry, _nii-san_, I have other plans.' I nodded as clearly and expressively as I could manage. _Oh yes_!

I ignored every other distress signal he was sending in my direction and slunk into the kitchen. My head was spinning because of all the filling, mindnumbing smells floating around the room. I wished to hell I could carry all that away. Instead I had to make do with a pack of dried crusts, some stockfish, a few waterplant balls and a huge packet of juice.

"Sasuke."

"Give me a break, okay?" I snapped. "I survived somehow without you watching over me. Besides, there's _no one_ here."

As I opened the door to leave I understood why. Lunch time. Almost every prison guard was currently in the canteen. By a stroke of misfortune, the door I had just opened led exactly there. Anyone but Itachi would have rolled his eyes.

A while later, having fought our way through nearly all of the prison guard, we escaped towards the river. He still refrained from lecturing me. I half-wanted him to start, to get all brotherly again: after all, he used to be the only person whose opinion had really mattered to me.

But he kept his peace. He watched me with those unnerving eyes of his as I sorted my trophies. Battered and bruised as I was, I felt more alive than I could ever remember.

"You wouldn't last a day in ANBU," Itachi noted.

Finally!

I arched my eyebrows inquiringly.

"Why's that?"

"You lack discipline." Oh sure, I always _lack_ something according to him. Big surprise there. "You fight like a mercenary."

(What can I say? I just hate playing by someone else's rules.)

"Taking criticism from you is really funny," I scoffed.

"It's a mere observation," Itachi said, unperturbed.

I finished checking our new supplies and was about to close the sack when something round and solid rolled into my hand. I opened my palm to find a small soy candy there. I hadn't seen any sweets on the shelf and I had no idea how it had got there. On a spur of moment, I handed it to Itachi. Sweets were never my thing anyway.

He looked at me with curiosity, then took the candy. I flashed back to that festive day again. It made both my heart and my teeth ache.

I needed some space. I needed room to breathe.

I walked along the river bank, nearly a ghost myself. I remembered the vow I had made after the massacre: _'No matter how deep I have to plunge myself into darkness, I will do it in order to kill you! No matter what happens, I will get that power.'_ Cold, cold water closing in on me. Mother's face, smiling and radiant. Father's back and his quiet approval: 'As expected of my son.' And Itachi… Always Itachi.

I couldn't see it anymore. My nightmare. I closed my eyes and what I saw was my brother, not the annihilator of my family and my future.

I took a deep breath, my lungs bursting with air, and jumped into the river. I could not dissolve like Suigetsu, but I imagined I could. I imagined I was water and water would wash the darkness away. I was free to cry because tears became one with water. I was free to choke, push up for air and plunge back in, let my agony tear me to pieces, hoping that when I came out I would be mended.

All Itachi had given me was more questions.

* * *

I stood on the river bank, looking down on my reflection. The surface of the water was still like a mirror.

I looked older, leaner. The sickness left its trace on me. It was now washing away, but that required more time.

I scrubbed myself clean in the river. I put on the new trousers and the new shirt. I brushed my hair as best as I could without a comb. Did that make me feel like a new person? Did that restore me to my habitual self?

I had no answer to that.

I picked up the Kusanagi and walked back to our campsite. I could walk forever. I could walk until all the poison within me was gone, all the tears ran dry, all the rage withered like flowers of the past. I could walk towards the change, _the_ Change, _the Change_.

(Please.)

I returned to the present standing underneath the shower of sakura petals. The sight of that accursed tree caused me to smile tiredly. If I were to make a _Less_ Pleasant Than Itachi list, this was the candidate for the top position.

I brandished the Kusanagi and delivered a blow. The tree shuddered. I struck again.

With every blow, a swirl of petals spiraled down on me. I drove my blade deeper into the bark with fanatic frenzy. Wood chips bounced back at me. The branches were shaking. I wanted to see this colossus fall. I would cut it down and my grief would disappear along with it.

It fell at my feet with a sound vaguely reminiscent of a sigh. Its petals looked darker, as though drenched in paint now. I stuck the sword into the ground, took a heap of silky petals and let them flow. There was no wind but they lingered in the air, unwilling to touch the ground.

I caught Itachi looking at me and turned to face him. He had changed as well. He was wearing all black now, new, his hair collected into his usual pony-tail. Soon, very soon our story would be over.

* * *

I needed to force myself to do this. It shouldn't be this hard to ask for a favour.

I braced myself and came closer to him, wearing my most effective disinterested expression. I was not seven anymore.

"I was thinking…" Yeah, I know: a great beginning. "You and I are both in pretty bad shape. We were lucky to last this long. So why don't we, uh–? How about… some sparring?"

Itachi cocked his head. "Is that a civil way of asking me to let you kill me?"

The barefaced mockery in his tone made me grind my teeth.

"I _swear_ I won't even try," I said icily.

(Come o-on. You know you want to.)

Itachi reached for the short sword he'd taken from the prison storeroom. I nodded triumphantly and attacked. Down with losing time! I was brimming with energy, sparkling like shaken soda. The hidden spring inside me snapped over and over again. My heart thumping, I waltzed around Itachi as he parried every stroke of mine gracefully. We were a blur of speed, the world still around us.

I wondered briefly if Itachi, while still being a murderer and a sinner, had somehow found peace. He always looked so serene. Not even the heat of a battle could pluck him out of the world of his own making. I envied him on this account.

"Still think I fight like a mercenary?" I asked, holding the sword at his throat. Gotcha.

…or not.

I hated it that he could still get me fooled. This almost cripple with disabled eyes and body weakened by some mysterious disease got me with a simple Kawarimi. I hated it as much as I hated the crows in his genjutsu, as much as I hated his bunshin when we'd play hide-and-seek.

"You're a worthy opponent, Sasuke," he said, knocking the Kusanagi out of my hand.

From that moment, the fight was taijutsu only. And once again, his speed, his strength drove me insane. I kept asking myself why no voices whispered in my mind, no bloodlust urged me to use the situation to my advantage.

I didn't want him dead. At least not now. I wanted to savour the moment.

Somehow, without my giving actual thought to it, my fingers formed the seals. Lightning streamed from my hand, blue sparks flashing in the twilight. I gasped, taken aback. Itachi ducked and I released a jolt of electricity, let it envelop me, the genuine, powerful Chidori Nagashi.

I thought Itachi smiled. I must have imagined it.

I raised my hands, chakra playing all over me, filling me up, raging within me.

Uchiha Sasuke was back.


	7. Miracle, Hold My Hand

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; gen] Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Lyrics from _Loss and Gain _by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Quotes from Naruto Chapters 353 and 364.

**A/N**: I can't believe it, but we're almost "out of the forest", darlings! Thank you so much for your amazing reviews! 3 I never expected to attract much attention with this story, but I appreciate every single review of yours. I've been working on this thing for over a year already. This calls for a bottle of wine. XD

* * *

**Chapter 7**

_**Miracle, Hold My Hand**_

_Defeat may be victory in disguise;_

_The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide._

"_Do I get to wear one of those too?"_

"_Yes."_

"_What's with the flowers?"_

"_These are clouds!"_

"_All right, what's with the clouds?"_

"_It's a symbol. Red clouds, black background."_

"_Red for blood?"_

"_Presumably."_

"_How about black?.."_

"_Shut up, young insolent fool!" Sasori growls. "Haven't I already told you that your questions will be answered later? And you!" The last bit uttered in an even more sinister voice is apparently addressed to Kisame. "Do _not_ encourage him."_

_Kisame coughs quietly; the sound might as well be a poor attempt to disguise laughter. The silence doesn't last long. Deidara is far too intrigued by this new chapter of his life to let it go._

"_What's with the nail polish?"_

"_Why me!?" Sasori groans. Kisame coughs again, knowing that inside his puppet, Sasori probably rolls his eyes in the most tragic manner._

_Deidara grows quiet after Itachi turns to look at him and says in a quiet, clear voice:_

"_Ever heard the saying 'Curiosity killed a cat'?"_

_By rights, Kisame should have a bad case of pneumonia to cough like that. Deidara swallows perplexedly and looks away from Itachi's terrifying eyes, a mask of indifference upon his boyish face. Sasori chuckles. _

_As the journey progresses, it gets more and more tiresome. Every morning as they set out the interrogation begins anew and lasts till sunset. _

"_Get used to that," Kisame whisper__s to Sasori through gritted teeth – in order to contain another fit of coughing, no less._

"_What do you have to say?" __Sasori asks Itachi, doing a heroic effort to ignore Kisame's gibes._

_Itachi hasn't given the new member much thought. Deidara obviously resents him for the humiliation during their short and anti-climatic battle; Itachi, for his part, doesn't care about Deidara at all.__ He is powerful (otherwise the Akatsuki wouldn't be interested in him), but he is also temperamental and feisty. Sasori is right: that could be his undoing._

"_If I may be allowed to pass my judgement," Itachi says politely, "I should say he is a fitting partner for you, Sasori-san."_

_There is no indication the person inside the puppet has heard him until a grumpy 'hurrumph!' follows._

"_Why is that?"_

"_He is an artist."_

"_Oh, right!" Kisame pipes in. "You did complain Orochimaru lacked understanding–."_

"_You've seen what he calls art!" Sasori barks. "That crazy kamikaze brat has no idea what true art is!"_

"_What good would it be if he simply echoed your views?" Itachi parries. "Truth is born of arguments."

* * *

_

Foolish brat. He had gone to the prison building after all. It could have ended very badly. Although Itachi regarded things in a rather sensible light and he wouldn't claim that Sasuke's safe escape from the prison had been solely due to Itachi's help. The boy was an excellent fighter after all. And an excellent magnet for trouble.

Stupid child.

Itachi clenched his fingers around the hilt of the sword. Apparently Sasuke had no survival instinct whatsoever. First toying with the Sound nins, then his feat in the prison building…

"_Nii-san_."

Itachi raised his head, astounded. That address… That word raised from the ashes of the past and uttered in Sasuke's voice made his eyes grow a fraction wider.

"Can you… see anything at all?"

Itachi could tell it had been bothering him for a while now. Explaining the situation would be like building yet another bridge across the abyss that separated them. Itachi knew he was making a mistake. He looked through Sasuke, trying to focus on the smudges of light and shadow that composed the shape of his little brother. Could that be called seeing? It was not yet complete darkness.

"I remember enough to do without eyesight."

Sasuke's voice was soft, hesitant. "But there is something."

"There is something," Itachi repeated.

"Memory alone is not enough," Sasuke mused. "There are plenty of places you've never been to."

"I will not let you pity me."

Sasuke snorted indignantly. "I do not!" He took a deep breath and said with forced calmness: "There are things I need to know before it ends. During our fight… you weren't exactly like yourself. I would have got you if not for Susano'o. And that blood… Don't think I haven't noticed."

"I don't think you've ever seen me in a real fight, Sasuke," Itachi said harshly. The boy was onto it again; and it called for the immediate change for subject. "You're not in a position to compare."

"I know what I saw! This wasn't the Itachi I wanted to be up against. And your final gesture… What was it?"

"A moment of weakness."

Sasuke growled in annoyance. "I deserve the bloody truth, Itachi. Stop playing with me, I'm not a child."

It was time to run again. If only Susano'o or any other absolute defense could hide him from Sasuke's accusations…

Itachi quickened his pace.

"What are you so afraid of telling me?" Sasuke flared up. "What did you do? What can be worse than killing your own family!?"

_Killing your own family on somebody else's orders_, Itachi thought, but he would never be able to say it out loud. He prayed Sasuke would stop asking questions, stop ruining their unstable peace.

"Tell me the truth!" Sasuke yelled after him. "Tell me the truth!"

Itachi lost his temper. Anger, despair and everything he had kept bottled deep within rose instantly and erupted in a cruel outburst.

"You're not ready for the truth yet."

Silence fell. Itachi spun around to face Sasuke. The youth stood stock-still, thunderstruck, eyes wide open. Itachi could hear his own heart thumping painfully.

"What?" Sasuke whispered, his lips barely moving. The world was light as a feather, a single exhalation that hurt like a knife between the ribs.

"There is only one truth you and I have," Itachi said listlessly. "I killed our parents. I'm the villain. And you get to play hero."

As he walked on, his eyes were dry. He wondered if he could cry at all – or had that ability forsaken him as well?

* * *

_Mother's hands are warm. The pads of her fingers __smeared with a healing ointment rub his grazed knee. It's not even a wound by his standards. He is a shinobi now, but the word will never mean as much to her as it does to him. As it should mean to him._

_She smiles, eyes gleaming slyly._

"_Indulge me," she whispers. "You're growing up too fast."_

_He relaxes his muscles and straightens his leg, closing his eyes and thinking back on the world where he could allow himself to be a child.

* * *

_

Something warm and moist, nearly a tear, brushed Itachi's cheek. Snapping out of his meditation, he glanced up and stopped, rooted to the spot. A rainfall of sakura petals was swirling around him.

Next to him, Sasuke came to an abrupt halt. His lips moved, curse words springing from them in smothered, angry whisper. He had cut the tree down; yet here it was, standing as proud and tall before them as ever.

Sasuke fell silent, breath caught in his throat. He was looking up, as if seeing something in the thick tree top.

"If I ever were to go back," he murmured suddenly, "what is there for me?"

Itachi waited, uncertain if the question was addressed to him. Sasuke might be talking to his ghosts again.

"That place is dear to you," he said eventually. "It's home, whether you admit that or not."

Sasuke snorted bitterly. "It's not about what I hold dear. I am a traitor. A law-breaker. A missing-nin just like you."

"Is that guilt I hear in your voice?"

Sasuke balled his fists, irritated. "It's nothing of the sort! I'm stating a fact. I would be punished. But it's not that I'm afraid of. I just–. I don't see where I fit in."

"With the people that love you." The word, love, tasted strange. Forgotten. "People that you love."

Sasuke never looked away from the tree. Perhaps his ghost was there, listening to him as well.

"I don't think anyone in our family was made for love."

The downpour of petals became thicker. Sasuke shut his eyes. Itachi caught himself expecting questions or more discourse, but nothing came. He lowered himself on the grass under the tree and breathed out wearily.

"We need to find a way to release ourselves from this genjutsu."

"I thought it was the tree," Sasuke said after a pause. "I thought if I cut it down–. I should have known it wouldn't go down so easily." He looked around to face Itachi, his face suddenly changed. "But it _is_ the tree, isn't it? Maybe it's some kind of genjutsu within genjutsu… is that possible?"

Itachi shrugged. Anything was possible if you tried hard enough.

"But then," Sasuke went on, "would it take someone like Madara to set things in motion? Does it require the power of the Mangekyou?"

"Not necessarily. You just have to be a skilled enough genjutsu master."

Sasuke sat down next to him, hands tugging at the wisps of grass around him. He was tense, like a hunter peering into the dark, striving to locate the prey that kept evading him. Itachi knew he was trying to piece together everything that had happened to them in the forest. The chase, the hunter-nins, the prison, the Sound nins, the tree, the hallucinations… The list was endless.

He was glad, though. This task had taken Sasuke's mind off of the past and stopped his flood of questions concerning the massacre.

He looked better now, Itachi's little brother. More composed, more whole, colder, just like he used to be. Soon he would fully turn his attention back to his goal: to avenge his family's murder. Soon everything would be over. A small smile crossed Itachi's lips in spite of him. It wasn't the worst of deaths after all: to die by a loved one's hand.

Yet something inside him rebelled against it. These past days had been almost _normal_ despite their constant arguments and the pain gnawing at both of them.

Foolish! How foolish! He gave himself a mental slap. You, idiot. What do you get your hopes high for? Do you think he would forgive you even if he knew the truth? Would you ever forgive yourself?

He couldn't get Sasuke's words out of his head.

_I don't think anyone in our family was made for love._

Probably true.

* * *

"_Prepare to die!" Shisui spits vehemently__. His nostrils flare, his curly hair standing on end, and he looks like he's about to make his threat come true. He takes a deep breath and says in a low, uncharacteristic voice: "Foolish outlander! You have been daft enough to intrude the lands of the great warlord Tomoyatsu the Iron Fist–!"_

"_Who?" Itachi interrupts incredulously._

"_Oh, come on!_ Samurai of the Iron Country. The Golden Edition_! The new play station release? Don't tell me you've never–."_

"_Have you met my father? Play station is a waste of shinobi's time."_

_Shisui rolls his eyes. He has never made a secret out of what he thinks of Fugaku-san's parenting skills, specifically from a child's point of view._

"_Okay, can I please continue?"_

"_By all means."_

"_Thank you." Shisui bows theatrically and assumes his previous menacing stance. "As I was saying," his voice escalates once more, "you have invaded my lands and dared steal the priceless cargo from my ships: my supplies of the rarest tea leaves from the Tea Country and… a collection of uncensored erotic manga–!"_

_Itachi flashes him another 'unimpressed' look. Shisui throws up his hands._

"_What? You know grown-ups, it's all they ever think about! Now tremble in fear, outlander! Here comes the day you'd wish you'd never been born! Beg for mercy as my Sphere of Righteous Wrath spirals in your direction!"_

_Itachi sighs. The field is empty and quiet, occasional gusts of wind soaring through the tree tops. Leave it to Shisui to turn a regular football game into __a dramatized fantasy show._

_The older boy kicks the ball in full force. There are no firm rules in this game; it always walks the fine line between a game and a sparring session. All sort of natural weapons can be used, be it chakra or some nifty ninjutsu._

_The ball leaps between them so fast that sometimes it can barely be seen with a naked eye. Red fire flashes in Itachi's eyes. _

"_That's cheating!" Shisui fires off breathlessly when the game is lost. "When did you get the Sharingan?"_

_Itachi holds an enigmatic pause, brushing his bangs away from his forehead._

"_My team's being sent on some longish away mission," Shisui informs him as they walk leisurely away from the field. "I guess I won't be playing any time soon."_

"_You sound upset."_

_Shisui shakes his head in doubt. "I'm not sure how I feel. Don't get me wrong, my team's great. They're all incredible as ninja and we have really great teamwork, but–." There's always a 'but'. "As people… It's like they have no personality! They're just so boring! And not your cool, silent, prodigy type of boring. Just talking to them seems like chatting to a stone wall."_

_They halt in front of Shisui's porch. Itachi glances past his sempai at __the half-opened fusuma doors, towards the dark interior of the house, and thinks that things are about to change. They are still children, but they are not allowed to be children anymore._

"_Take care, little brother," Shisui smiles and squeezes his shoulder lightly. He makes it to the veranda, flushed, excited, chakra racing through the channels in his body. "Hey," he calls after Itachi from the doorstep. "When I come back, there'll be a rematch. And you'll get to see my new victory dance!"

* * *

_

"Bonds," Sasuke said all of a sudden.

Itachi cocked his head. His brother tensed and glanced up at the rosy tree top again. His lips moved, forming barely audible words. He seemed uncertain of the idea that had just come to him, yet he clung to it like it was his last straw.

"If we can't destroy the tree, we should find another way. It has something to do with bonds."

Sasuke sprang up on his feet and examined the twin trunks curiously. Itachi kept silent, his strained eyes fixed on his brother's face.

"Don't look at me like that," Sasuke said without turning his head. "I already hate myself enough for sounding like Naruto."

"A genjutsu within a genjutsu," Itachi echoed Sasuke's earlier deduction.

Why not? Suppose there was a genjutsu specialist skilled enough to have constructed such a trap. Someone powerful who had miraculously avoided getting on the Akatsuki radar and thus escaped Itachi's attention. Some mad scientist collecting bloodline limits, perhaps.

These levels of genjutsu were uncommon but not unheard of. They resembled a jewel-box locked inside another jewel-box, and so on, and infinite number of mysteries within mysteries. In that case, the tree was indeed a key.

"Doesn't it look familiar to you?" Sasuke asked. The tips of his fingers danced over the smooth bark, tracing invisible patterns. "The way it stands, the way it grows… It's one tree, but it's also two trees."

"Twins."

"No. No, they're not identical. They grow together, but they're so different. This one is big and it casts shadow over the smaller one."

"Protecting it?"

"Or keep it away from the sun." Sasuke brought his face closer to the gap between the trunks. "Do you think they've all seen it? The guards, the Sound nins… I've never once heard them talk about it. Could it be that it's here just for us?"

There was a possibility, Itachi reasoned. If the genjutsu was different for everyone, then the sakura tree might be the key designed specifically for the two of them. Was that why he had never seen it during his failed attempts to escape alone? He needed Sasuke more than he knew.

"A barrier I will have to overcome…" Sasuke whispered. Itachi was stunned to recognize those distinctly familiar words as his own, from years before.

"They are brothers," said Sasuke. "They're us."

Itachi watched him stroke the smaller trunk hesitantly. His fingers traveled down towards the moss-covered junction where the trunks fused, the visual foundation of their bond. They had sprouted from the same seed, much like the Uchiha brothers were born of the same mother.

"There are bonds you can't tear apart, bonds you can't deny," Sasuke said, his voice breaking. "You will always be there in front of me."

_I wish it were so, little brother_.

"Where does that leave us?" Itachi asked.

"Right here. We are brothers. At least until we'll have left the forest."

He grasped one of the smaller tree's branches gently and pulled it closer to the larger tree. Itachi mimicked his action, interlacing the branches together. Then, without a word, they continued aimlessly on their way.

Sasuke kept quiet. He seemed far more relaxed around Itachi now; an observation that made Itachi neither happy nor sad. He wanted to believe Sasuke remained adamant about his revenge; though to convert Sasuke into a kinslayer not unlike himself was more of a punishment than a reward. Sasuke had suffered enough. Itachi wanted to believe his death would make things easier, but he wasn't so sure of this now.

A golden ray of sunshine slid down Itachi's cheek. Its feeble warmth barely reached him. A light blow of wind shifted his bangs.

He stopped.

"Can you feel it?"

"I see it," said Sasuke, trying to keep excitement out of his voice. "The colours look different. There is a gap in the foliage. I can see the sky."

"The air tastes differently."

"It's autumn."

Itachi's heart gave a violent leap. Real air streamed down into his lungs, bringing an uncanny mixture of scents and tastes; so real that for a moment he feared he had finally started hallucinating.

The sound of somebody clapping his hands made Itachi turn around. He spotted the prison building, far less imposing than it had seemed inside the genjutsu (they must have been wandering in its vicinity the entire time). In front of the gate, there stood a man.

"Should I congratulate you?" he spoke with fake cheer, voice laced with venom. "It didn't take you half as long to figure things out as I'd dared hope."

"Who're you?" Sasuke asked bluntly.

"Your generous host, of course! You were the jewel of my menagerie. Two legendary shinobi, the last children of the great clan. It was so much fun watching you try to connect. Ah, the drama! But I suppose that was my mistake. I was betting on your hatred for each other too heavily. But where has your appetite for destruction gone, Sasuke-san? You can't have forgiven your murderous brother just yet!"

Sasuke scowled coldly. "You talk too much."

He attacked on the spur of moment, driving the Kusanagi right through the man. The figure disappeared with an almost inaudible '_poof'_.

"Sasuke," Itachi said, his tone heavy with warning.

"I know."

The youth spun around, Chidori flaring around his fist. Bolts of lightning shot through the ground. They were met halfway by some strange black blobs rising from the dirt. The lighting swished through them, but came out weakened.

"Is that it?" the Host's voice taunted.

"Clown," Sasuke hissed through clenched teeth.

He struck again, the blade of his sword slashing furiously through the air. The black inky creature rose to shield its master; the sword got stuck in it. Sasuke pulled at it, but to no avail.

"Duck," Itachi commanded, and released the Grand Fireball. It rolled over the Host and the creature, flames bursting like tidal waves.

Sasuke flashed him the look that spelled, _don't waste your chakra, I'm on it_. Itachi forced a pale smile.

An inky shadow spilled over the ground, gathering into the shape of the Host. He scowled – and threw his hand forward, and his shadowy fingers constricted around Sasuke's neck. Itachi raised his sword and lunged at him, evading another inky formation that sped forth to block his attack. He felt weak, fighting without the Mangekyou.

Itachi performed Housenka no Jutsu and maneuvered between the jolts of fire flying towards the Host. His blade came down swiftly. The Host's hand came off smoothly and plopped on the ground. Sasuke staggered backwards, breathing constrainedly, splatters of ink running over his chest.

"Honestly, I expected more from the fabled Uchiha survivors," the Host said. The loss of a limb didn't seem to upset him in the slightest. "Perhaps your fame is a bit exaggerated after all. You see, collecting a kekkei genkai menagerie is such a beautiful challenge. Sometimes break-outs happen, and when they do, I take pleasure in testing my subjects' limits. I have tested yours in a closed environment; like I said, you were such fun to watch. But in close combat you seem to be – how should I put it? – rather unimaginative."

The man's circumlocutory manner was beginning to irritate Itachi. He took a deep breath – and activated the Sharingan. Excruciating pain pierced his eyes. Doing his best to ignore it, he lunged at the Host to reclaim Sasuke's lost sword.

"I lament your lack of judgement, Itachi-san," the Host observed. "While your eyes were shut, you could be arguably safe from my genjutsu. Why put yourself at such risk–?"

"You forget," Sasuke smirked, jumping at him. "You're not the only one here who can cast genjutsu."

Itachi wondered briefly what Sasuke had chosen to show him. He could hardly have the same imagination for genjutsu torture as Itachi himself did.

The Host broke the illusion quickly, but while he was out, Itachi had managed to pull the sword free. A column of murky water jetted in the brothers' direction. Water type. Of course.

"I just hate it when they won't die," Sasuke said hoarsely.

Itachi skidded up to him, clutching both swords in his hands firmly. It was time to get creative.

"Do you still have that flute?"

After a moment of silence, Sasuke reached beneath his cloak and took out the flute without questions. Itachi took the battle stance.

"What about you?"

"Never mind me. Just keep playing." He nodded, more to himself than to Sasuke. "Go."

Music swam through the air. Itachi lunged at the Host at full speed, blood boiling in his body. He slashed, and cut, and pierced, trying to ignore the pain in his eyes and his ears and his throat. The Host appeared to be completely overwhelmed. He tried to knock Sasuke off balance, but his Suiton attack crashed into a hundred droplets. The melody rose to higher volume, each sound tearing at the Host's flesh. He doubled over, disoriented.

Itachi felt his pulse quicken. His heart beat so fast that it was all he could feel at the moment. The ground shook beneath his feet.

The music stopped abruptly. Sasuke leapt up to him, snatched the Kusanagi out of his grip and delivered the final, fatal blow, cutting the Host's head off. The headless body collapsed on the ground, black inky liquid seeping out of the wound in place of blood.

Dropping the sword, Sasuke caught Itachi before his body hit the ground too.

"Sharingan!" he breathed, astounded. "I thought you couldn't–."

Itachi coughed. Blood bubbled on his lips.

"Why did you have to do it!?" Sasuke demanded angrily. "You could have kept your eyesight. What scraps you'd had left. I would have managed–!"

The Sharingan faded, leaving only sharp ache behind. The light died down. Itachi sagged heavily.

"How will I fight you now?" Sasuke whispered. It did not come out half as coldly as he had undoubtedly intended.

* * *

Itachi walked on through the eternal night that had descended upon him. He wondered, to his own surprise, what Shisui-senpai would have had to say. He had always gone on about changing destiny. Maybe someday… Itachi chuckled. His destiny was solitude and darkness, and it had finally caught up with him.

The darkness, however, was not complete. What he could not see, he could define by sounds and scents and sensations. The fragrance of musty leaves eddied wildly around him. The birds, unheard in the dull silence of the genjutsu forest, raced each other over the creaking tree tops, the flapping of their wings and their screeching so loud, so sharp to his ears.

'Get used to it,' he thought darkly. Light was not coming back.

He thought about Madara. Was that how it felt? His first hours of blindness, overworked eyes still hurting, still cherishing the sensation of power that they had once held.

His musings delayed Itachi from noticing that Sasuke had stopped. It was only when his brother called out to him, "Wait," that Itachi also came to a halt.

"We're almost out of the forest," Itachi said. He knew it by the way the air was changing.

"You're in no good shape to fight," Sasuke said hesitantly. "Let's spend the night here, on the edge of the forest. We'll fight tomorrow at dawn."

The request surprised Itachi. He did nothing to indicate it, though.

"As you wish," he agreed and lowered himself on the ground. Perhaps he could indeed use some rest.

* * *

"_Deidara is dead," the Leader said. "However… Sasuke died as well.__"_

_Itachi lifts his head up to the sky, rain lashing out at him and thunder roaring like a wounded animal._

"_It seems that someone else has been killed," the Leader had said days before. "Orochimaru."_

_Sasuke had killed Orochimaru. Sasuke died with Deidara. Itachi finds it hard to believe. _

"_From here, it looks like you're crying," Kisame remarks._

_How very prudent. If he cried, he would doubtless cry in the rain to hide the tears. But his eyes betray him. Years of pretense have disciplined him well. That moisture in his eyes and on his cheeks is rain, nothing more._

"_Sasuke died as well," the Leader's voice returns, bouncing back from the rock walls._

_Itachi feels numb. If Sasuke died, he would feel it, right? If Sasuke died, none of this would make any sense._

_He is still here. His heart is still beating. Itachi's heart is still beating. If Sasuke died, shouldn't it stop as well?_

"_No," Itachi says__, willing his lips not to form a smile they are trying to form. "He's not dead yet. And besides…"_

_The clouds shift, revealing a silken piece of greyish sky._

"_The storm has passed."_

_He is not dead.

* * *

_

The wind was getting colder. Itachi wrapped himself tighter into the traveling cloak. Regardless of the chill, it was good to be able to feel the wind again.

Tomorrow at dawn, Sasuke had said. Itachi asked himself whether he would know the dawn had come, whether he would somehow feel it. Red dawn. Akatsuki. It had always symbolized the end.

Sasuke's footsteps approached. The youth stood motionless for a few minutes. Itachi opened his eyes to indicate he wasn't asleep. Then Sasuke lay quietly next to him.

"Do you mind?"

"No," Itachi exhaled.

"It's been a while," Sasuke murmured. "Since my early childhood."

"Don't think I didn't miss that feeling."

"Did you?" There was doubt in Sasuke's voice. "Did you think about me?"

Itachi bit the inside of his lip. He would only be making things harder on the eve of tomorrow's battle.

He tensed a little when he felt Sasuke turn and press harder against him. It was an effective way to keep warm, but…

"Tomorrow things will be different again," Sasuke mused aloud.

Itachi kept silent, torn between the desire to comfort him and to push him away. Instead, he focused on the feeling of Sasuke so close to him, the heavy warmth pressed against his side like many nights in the past that they had waited through for storms to end and Itachi would tell him stories. Sasuke was taller than him now, a sixteen-year-old with a low, steely voice and harsh features, edgy like the lightning he was so apt at manipulating.

"I need to know," Sasuke said in a low, torn voice that seemed almost too gentle to be his. "The truth you think I'm not ready for yet… I am ready! I need to make sure I won't regret anything. That I'm not making a huge mistake."

"You're not."

Sasuke pulled away and must have turned his back on Itachi; his voice sounded farther away.

"I think I've come to learn something here. No matter how horrible a crime is, a criminal sometimes… deserves a second chance."

Itachi smiled sadly. He never did learn to hate. Or maybe… maybe he did, but he had also learnt to overcome it. To forgive. Something that Itachi could never really do.

"I have so many questions," Sasuke murmured.

"Ask away."

"No." The warmth was back. Sasuke pressed his forehead against Itachi's shoulder. "You won't tell me anything. I'm so tired. I don't want to think anymore."

Itachi didn't move. Minutes wore on. Soon, Sasuke's breathing leveled.

"I wish you could stay with me," Itachi whispered.

Sasuke mumbled something unintelligible, having heard the words but not captured the meaning.

When he was fast asleep, Itachi shifted quietly, pulling away from the boy. Tomorrow would turn into another promise he couldn't keep.

He felt about for something sharp and located his sword. He positioned the tip of the blade against the softer patch of soil and scribbled a few words rapidly. Perhaps this time, he would be making a proper decision.

He leaned forth in the dark and planted a barely perceptible kiss upon Sasuke's forehead. Then he stood up and left.


	8. Seven Day Mile

**Title**: "Out of the Sky"

**Author**: Shaitanah

**Rating**: R (overall)

**Timeline**: post-394; post-451 (epilogue)

**Summary**: Post-394 AU. Sasuke wakes up incarcerated; his only company – a faceless inmate, his only goal – to break free. But why does it feel like he's heard that voice from the other side of the wall so many times before? [Itachi and Sasuke; gen] Please R&R!

**Disclaimer**: _Naruto _belongs to Kishimoto Masashi. Story title from Pablo Neruda's _Almost Out of the Sky_. Lyrics from _You _by Richard Siken.

**Dedication**: this is and has always been for my dear friend Helike. 3

**Special thanks**: to Satalex (she knows why); Helike (for believing in me); fatelesskitten (for listening to my constant blabbering); R.G. Waffles (for writing the most incredible reviews I've ever had the pleasure to receive).

**A/N**: Well, that's it, sweeties! Thank you so very much to everyone who's read and reviewed this story (one of the few stories of mine that I'm [tentatively] proud of). It's been an insane journey of a year and half. I never expected to get so many reviews for it, and I'm immensely grateful to everyone who left them. You're all incredible! 3 *hugs*

* * *

**Epilogue**

**_Seven Day Mile_  
**

_I__n these dreams it's always you:  
The boy in the sweatshirt,  
The boy on the bridge, the boy who always keeps me  
from jumping off the bridge._

I woke up at once and opened my eyes wide. Morning had chased away the chill of night. Sparse rays of sunlight poured down on me, but I still felt cold, inside rather than physically.

He was gone.

My brother was gone. Again.

I sat up and looked around, searching for some indications to prove me wrong. He might have just gone– somewhere. Yeah, right.

Emptiness seeped into my mind, numbing every thought, every sensation. I was alone. Completely and utterly abandoned.

I growled in despair. I shouted out his name. I cursed. I clenched and unclenched my fists and spat off every curse word that came to mind. I whirled in place in helpless fury, looking and looking for someone who I _knew_ had been gone for hours already. Finally, I spotted the message scribbled in the dirt.

'Some stories are better off unfinished.'

I snarled, fell to my knees, and screamed:

"Why!?"

Why would he do this to me? Why would he leave me like this? I was almost ready to forgive him. For all I knew, today at dawn, we would not have fought.

But no, he did not fear death. It could not be the reason. He could not have run off like a coward. But why, _why_?..

"What now!?" I screamed and rammed my fist into the ground. "What the fuck is going to happen _now_, huh!?"

I rose abruptly and slid the Kusanagi on my back. What use was there to sit and mope around? I would track him down again – and I would have my truth.

* * *

I had been alone for such a long time. By choice, mostly. It felt unusual to seek company now. Yet here I was standing at the ruined gate of the village I had once called home, waiting for something that even I couldn't explain.

I remembered the look on Karin's face. She had asked me where we were going now. Broken and defeated, I had said: home. Even then, I hadn't meant it. It was not my home – but somehow, deep inside, I hoped it could be.

It was not the place that mattered, but the person. I remembered looking at the sakura tree that last time and seeing Naruto between the branches. The moron had been grinning at me, as if giving me a tip.

I didn't know what I would do when I met him. He would probably yell at me, kick me in the gut. Should I let him? Should I fight back? Should I tell him what I had been through?

That was something I hadn't really considered before. _Talk_.

I'd sat through plenty of talks though. Just as I'd promised Itachi, I found Madara – and he told me the truth. Just as Itachi had promised me, I wasn't ready for it. I still felt that I was lying at the bottom of an ocean, crushed by tons of heavy black water. But I understood why he'd chosen to keep it from me.

Anger flared anew. He had transferred his Mangekyou techniques into my eyes – and not a single word of warning! He had bound my heart to him again – and ditched me like useless baggage. He had been a slave to Konoha – and… and…

"He did it to protect you," Madara had said.

Eventually, anger died down, giving way to light sorrow and emptiness. There was nothing I could do. My brother was dead to the world. For all I knew, he could really be dead. Regardless of reality, I intended to keep up the pretense.

I was in no shape to take on Madara alone. He asked me if I would join him. If I wanted any more revenge. I did. The lust for it burnt in my throat. I wanted to see them all dead. Feel their blood on my hands. Everyone who was to blame for what my life had become; including the masked man in front of him.

I said no. No, I didn't want to join him. I wanted to be at peace.

There was only one place where I could go. So when Hebi who had caught up with me halfway from Madara's lair wanted an answer, there was only one thing I could tell them: I was going home.

* * *

I waited for the sound of hammers to die down. Darkness enveloped Konoha, and I finally set foot in it. I walked like a shadow between rows of tents, temporary residences of the survivors of the great battle. I heard Naruto had beaten Pain, the questionable leader of the Akatsuki. Good for him.

I didn't try to seek the ruins of the Uchiha Compound. I wasn't here for my past, but for my future.

I entered Naruto's tent quietly. He was asleep. Fully clothed, only the headband missing, one hand tucked under his head, the other resting across his belly. He looked tense even in his sleep, but my coming in didn't seem to disturb him in the least.

I sat noiselessly by his bedroll and looked at his tanned, windblown face. Wisps of yellow hair scattered messily over his forehead looked bleaker in the dark of the tent than I remembered them to be. The whisker-marks stood starkly against his cheeks.

I reached behind my back slowly. If I were an assassin, I could take him out so easily now. But it wasn't my objective. I took the sword off and put it aside. I should probably throw it away for good. My war with the world was over.

Would he accept me?

I recalled our meeting at Orochimaru's, the last _real_ conversation we had before my delusions started haunting me. I was here for him, only for him. He was the last person left that mattered.

I sat there till morning, insecurity eating away my soul. At dawn I was half-ready to run off like Itachi had done. But I stayed. I sat as if rooted to the spot – and waited.

Finally, he opened his eyes, blinked sleepily and looked at me.

Now we would talk.


End file.
